Common Sense
by Oblivious to the Obvious
Summary: A truce? What was I thinking? This is honestly the stupidest thing that I could possibly do. Making a truce with one of the fiercest competitors in the game. He'll kill me as soon as I turn around. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Cato/OC
1. Reapings and Goodbyes

**Hello everyone! So, this is the first chapter of Common Sense after I edited it (although I changed quite a bit so it's probably kinda different).**

**So yeah, it's longer than this chapter originally was (by 1,000 words or so) and hopefully it's not worse than the original chapter was :s**

**Anyway, I'm going back to my hobbit hole to finish editing the rest of these bad boys.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Reapings and Goodbyes<strong>

"Does she have to do this every time?" Cora mutters, grunting shortly at the end, presumably after being hit by a stray elbow from one of the less coordinated girls in District Three. Chances are that she's just talking to herself (wouldn't be the first time I caught her foul mouthing the purple-haired escort), but the way we're packed so tightly together has her positioned so that she's uncomfortably close and her mouth is right at my ear, making it almost impossible for me to distinguish whether or not her comment was directed at me.

Harley, however, has no qualms about whether she's interrupting an important mental conversation. "She has to," she replies, somewhat snarky. "I mean it's not as though anyone's going to volunteer because getting viciously murdered on television sounds fun."

"Although that _would _be an interesting turn of events," I chime in.

Cora's head snaps around to mine and even though I try to keep my eyes focused on the Capitol escort droning on about the honour winning The Games would bring to our district and families, I can feel my friend's icy eyes drilling holes in my head. "Adelina Herene, are you implying that you want someone to volunteer?"

I shrug. "Why not?" This time I turn to my friends. Cora looks shocked, like I've just unveiled a plan to actually volunteer for these games. Harley, on the other hand, looks to be seriously considering the option. "At least they would actually want to be in the games," I hurry to validate my opinion. "It's better than some twelve year old being picked again. I mean, they really don't stand a chance."

I mentally slap myself for my words when I see Harley's face pale. I turn to take back my words, but I'm interrupted by the high pitched squeal of the microphone at the centre of the stage.

"Ahem, well then," Seraphina Sentel says, mostly to herself as she attempts to singlehandedly fix the height of the microphone stand, causing yet another loud squeak of protest to burst from the speakers. To her credit, most appliances in District Three, having been built from the parts not sent to the Capitol, never work properly, and Seraphina hadn't given up and tried throwing the microphone off the stage in a fit of rage yet, so she's doing pretty well considering. Graciously giving up on what we could all tell was a losing battle, she leans down to compensate for the stands low height, clasps her hands together and her smile becomes ever brighter as she says the words we were all hoping (in complete and utter vain) that she'd forget about."Are you ready to find out who your female tribute is?" she asks in a way that's supposed to make people cheer in response. Of course, none of us give her the satisfaction, though I can faintly hear a girl a few rows behind me giggling, most likely at the way her purple hair is piled up on top of her head causing her to resemble one of the Capitol delicacies I've seen in promo photos for the build-up to The Games.

"Oh, shut up!" Cora not-so-quietly reprimands the giggling girl, causing a few smiles, even one from Harley who has spent the most part of the day worrying herself sick about the outcome of the day even though, out of the three of us, Cora has the highest chance of being picked, her younger sister, Jenna, recently turned twelve and has been entered in The Reaping this year.

"Cheer up Cora," I nudge her lightly, trying my best to keep my voice low so as not to attract the attention of the Peacekeepers. "A little fun doesn't hurt right now."

Cora turns her attention to Harley, her expression softening slightly, but the sympathy is gone in a second when she elbows me in ribs and gestures to the stage, where I turn my attention just in time to watch as Seraphina dips a perfectly manicured hand into the raffle, taking her time, keeping us all on the edge for as long as possible. Finally she picks out a piece of paper, unfolds it and pauses, a slow smile forming on her purple lips that seems to say '_I've got a secret and I can't wait to tell you all about it_' andreads aloud in her crisp voice the words that I've been dreading to hear:

"Adelina Herene."

My whole body freezes, there's a brief moment when I look around desperately; hoping that Seraphina will announce that it was a mistake, or that there's another girl by the name of Adelina Herene somewhere in the crowd.

But after a few, long seconds of complete silence, it becomes painfully obvious that I'm the only one Seraphina could be talking about. I spare a quick, desperate look at my friends. Harley's grip on my arm has loosened considerably, like she's just waiting for me to disappear, and Cora's not even looking at me, glaring daggers at Seraphina instead.

I can feel all eyes on me as I make my way slowly up to the stage. Many display looks of pity, there's the occasional smile or two as they silently celebrate their safety for yet another year is confirmed. There are some faces that I recognise from school, people who I see every day, occasionally sit next to in class, I can see their faces slowly transform from relief to sympathetic as they catch my gaze. As I walk up the steps to the stage I try not to look at Seraphina, who's usual bright and cheery smile just seems vicious and predator-like, the way a murderer would smile as they catch their victim who was so close to escape.

I try and stay as still as possible while I wait as Seraphina begins the painstakingly process to pick the male tribute again. My eyes are flickering between the crowd again, searching desperately for a familiar face before settling on Cora and Harley's faces. I feel anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach at the sight of them. While, of course, I'd hate for them to risk their lives for me, but couldn't they have shown some open sign of sadness? After all we have known each other since we were five. If one of them were chosen I would've been on the verge of volunteering myself. I'm so caught up in this idea that I miss the name of my fellow tribute, only snapping back to reality in time to see a skinny boy, maybe a year or two younger than me, make his way up to the stage. He trips on the wooden stairs on the way up, and even though no one laughs I can see his face is bright red. He won't meet my eyes or anyone else's but he's probably fighting back tears, the way I so desperately want to.

I wonder how he'll die in the arena. Maybe he'll fall out of his hiding place and get ripped apart by vicious Careers. I hastily look away from the boy, trying to shake the awful image of his throat torn out, the way one of the Victors from District Two did to her last victim years ago.

_Oh shit, don't cry, don't cry now. _I bite my lip and close my eyes, trying to wash out my surroundings and Seraphina's droning voice as she asks for any volunteers and is, of course, met with complete silence. _You can cry later, but not here and not for him._

My eyes snap open when Seraphina clears her throat and looks at me pointedly. With a jolt I shake the boy's outstretched hand and give him a weak, shaky smile which is meant to be reassuring. I don't think it looks very positive.

* * *

><p>Both The Boy and I sit in complete silence as a Peacekeeper walks us down the quiet hallway to the rooms where we'll say our last goodbyes. The Boy seems to be holding back tears and I'm trying to produce them. I haven't felt the need to cry since we were hurried away from the stage and the watchful eyes of our district members. In a way I envy him. The way that he's already come to terms with this, he'll be able to make the most of his goodbyes, while I'll end with a simple hug and leave so many things unsaid.<p>

We stop so suddenly that I almost walk straight into the Peacekeeper. He opens the door immediately to out left and gestures for me to walk inside. "Wait here," he tells me before shutting the door behind him.

The room that I'm given is large, but extremely bland and boring with pure white walls and carpet with a couch and small, round coffee table holding a small box of tissues, as the only items of furniture. No window. I guess they don't want to risk me jumping out. I sit on the couch and wait for the parade of tears that I know will overcome me soon. Most likely in public where I don't want them to be seen.

"Ada!" Cora's voice makes me jump in shock. I didn't even hear her open the door. Cora is one of the only people who call me by my full name instead of my much preferred nickname, so hearing her call me by it gives me a surprise. The look on her face causes any feelings of anger towards her to fade.

"Cora," I say as she runs across the room to wrap in a ferocious hug.

"I'm so sorry," she tells me, not loosening her grip. Cora's never been one for open displays of emotion (or emotions that weren't annoyance or anger), so her new persona astonishes me.

_Because she thinks that this is the last time she'll see you, _a small, unwelcome voice reminds me. _She wouldn't be this way if she thought you had a chance at coming back._

I ignore the pessimistic voice and focus on my friend. "Hey, what are you sorry for? It's not your fault," I soothe a she releases her grip on me and grabs a tissue, dabbing at her dry eyes.

"I know, I know." Her voice is thick with emotion as she crunches the tissue into her hand and slumps down on the couch, dragging me down with her. "But – " she cuts off abruptly and looks at me. "Oh God, I'm sorry. This isn't about me. How are you feeling? Are you okay? Worried? Scared? It's okay to be scared, I would be too if I were going to die-"

"Oh gee Cora, thanks for the vote of confidence," I interrupt her. I mean it as a joke but her face pales and she looks ready to burst into real tears this time.

"No, I didn't mean it like that!" she protests, half scolding, and I almost smile because she's half back to normal.

I never find out how Cora _did _mean it because at that moment Harley entered, red faced and panting like she'd just run a marathon.

"Ada!" She exclaimed as she made her way over to our spot on the couch, squeezing between me and Cora to give me a (somewhat sweaty) hug. "I came here as fast as I could," she told me. "Jenna wanted to go home so I had to find Mom and then run over –"

"Harley, relax. Cora hasn't even been here for a minute, you're not late." I laugh weakly.

Like Cora, Harley ignores any attempt at optimism and goes straight for the upsetting truth. Unlike Cora, Harley isn't good at not-crying. "It's not fair," she mumbles, burying her face into my shoulder while I wrap my arm around her shoulder. "It's just not fair."

"I know but," I pause here, taking a moment to wonder what the most suitable thing to say would be. "That's just what happens sometimes. You gotta live with what you got."

_Except for the living part, cause chances are I'll be dead within a week._

Harley looks up at me, oddly serious. "And you will. Live that is." She wipes her eyes with her sleeve and takes a few deep breathes, though I can see she's still trying not to cry. "Listen to me very carefully Adelina Herene," she tells me. "You are not going to die. You will find a way to win or I will find a way to bring you back from the dead so I can kill you myself."

I grin, but I wish she hadn't sat up because right now I need a hug more than ever. "In that case,  
>I try to keep my voice light, "I'll try my hardest. Just for you, Harls."<p>

"No." This time it's Cora who speaks, her voice hollow, like she's trying to convince herself as well as me. "Trying isn't good enough. Trying is just an excuse. You have to actually come home."

"Don't worry you guys," I reach around Harley and punch her lightly in the shoulder. "You know me, I'll be back to annoy you in no time. I promise." Harley nods slowly, like it's a valid promise, though we both know that it can't be done. Like when I was younger and promised them that I'd find a way to get rid of The Hunger Games when I twelve, so none of us would have to go to another reaping.

Cora looks disappointed. "I think your Grandma wants to see you now," she says, standing abruptly.

I nod and follow her up, pulling a reluctant Harley off the couch and into one last hug. "I'll miss you," I mumble into her shoulder.

"Hey, save the sappy stuff for my funeral," Harley tries to choke out a smile as she pulls away. "Just..." Harley trails off, twisting her hands together awkwardly, like she's trying not to hug me one last time, "Come back."

I don't bother giving her false reassurances, instead watching in silence as she leaves. I turn, prepared to say my farewell to Cora, but she's already left. I figured she'd do something along those lines. She never was one for emotional stuff like this. In a way I'm glad. This way I don't have to see her cry.

I wait silently for a moment for my next visitor, after a while when no one appears I stand up and walk as close to the door as I can without raising suspicion from the Peacekeeper guarding me.. "Grandma?" I call as I peer out of the door. "You can come in now."

She walks in a few seconds later, her walking stick looking like it's there for fashion, rather than her inability to walk without it. I can't help the small smile spreads across my face when I see the woman who practically raised me. Unlike Cora and Harley, Grandma doesn't say anything. The room is filled with a peaceful silence that brings the reality of the situation crashing down on me. She doesn't cry like Harley or Cora, but instead engages me in a fierce hug with strength that I didn't know that her frail bones possessed. It's when I see her that I finally break down.

I don't know how long we stand there, me leaning down on her shoulder and crying my heart out, but it's exactly what I needed from her.

"Don't cry," is the first thing that she says to me. Her voice is steady as she pats my head soothingly. "You just need to be strong Adelina. You're smart, remember that, you can find a way to get out."

_Oh God, she's going to be all on her own_, seems to be all I'm capable of thinking. _I'm the last one she has left, and I'm leaving her._

"I'm going to die." I mumble, a statement of fact, before pulling away from her shoulder. "Grandma, I'm going to die." I can feel my voice break at the end, hysteria creeping in.

"Oh hush, don't talk like that." Grandma scolds wiping away the tears from my eyes. I notice that she doesn't deny it.

A sharp knock on the door from the Peacekeeper outside signals the end of our time. Quick as lightning, my Grandma pulls me back down to her height. "You be strong Adelina," she tells me, grabbing my hand and discreetly passing me something wrapped in cloth before giving me a final nod of approval and leaving.

As the door closes behind her I just manage to pick up the rest of what she was saying.

"You'll do good."

I suppose that 'doing good' is the best that I'll be able to hope for.


	2. Trains and Crowds

**Alright, so I just got back from camp, and then I wrote this. And then I had a rather long discussion with a friend about the Hunger Games movie. And then I was feeling happy, thanks to the people who reviewed, alerted and favourited this story. And then I remembered that I don't own the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. I don't even own Alexander Ludwig. *Sigh* How annoying.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Trains and Crowds<strong>

_D__on't cry, _I remind myself, _Look sad if you want, just don't cry. _It's easier said than done. After my final goodbye to Grandma, Mikail and I are escorted to the train station where we'll be taken to the Capitol. The cameras are the hard part. Photographers and reporters crowd around us, snapping shots at us for their articles on the new tributes for District 3. I can see them sizing us up, judging how well they think that we'll go in the games. I can hear them talking in what they think is a whisper, "What do you think? Have we got a winner this year?"

"Nah, look at them, pathetic bunch, those two," another will add.

"Yeah well they just got reaped, they're bound to be a bit sad," someone defends us.

"But they could cover it up a bit, couldn't they. It's like they're at a funeral," someone will say while others nod in agreement.

"They are at a funeral, their own." Laughter.

I try to block out their words and bets on how long we'll last, but it gets harder with every step I take towards the train seems to move me further to them, making their voices louder and louder and-

"There you two are," Seraphina says, exasperated as she pulls us onto the train, flashing a dazzling smile at the cameras while she pushes us out of sight.

"Good, that part's over. You two were _terrible _out there, I'll have to work with you on how to treat the public." Seraphina announces as soon as the train leaves the station and we're far away from any possible camera. "You," she points at Mikail, "Stop looking so moody, and give the cameras a look at your face instead of glaring at the ground the entire time... On second thoughts, are you good with any weapons? Any chance that you could be a major threat in the game?" she asks hopefully before going over him once more, "Never mind, I know the answer. And _you,_" this time she rounds on me, "Would it kill you to smile? You looked like someone just killed your dog! No one likes a pessimist."

Mikail and I look at each other in disbelief, "We'll work on it," he says, not sounding very pleased.

Seraphina snorts in disbelief, "I doubt that'll do much good."

We pretend not to hear her.

"This way," Seraphina calls out as she begins walking through the corridor before stopping suddenly and turning to us. "How rude of me, I've forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Seraphina Sentel, but you already knew that."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, "Adelina Herene," _You just pulled my name out of a raffle deciding that I would compete in a death tournament where I'll most likely die, remember me?_

"Mikail Wraythe," Mikail says, finding her egotism funny instead of annoying like I do.

"Hmmm," says Seraphina, trying (and failing) to sound interested.

"So what now?" Mikail asks as she leads us down the train and into a large dining room. Though it shares that same white walls and carpet as the Justice Building, it has a much more elegant feel to it. The mahogany table holds an array of dishes containing colourful foods, most of which are alien to me. A few avoxes wait on a man and woman already seated at the table, waiting patiently for us.

"Well... What did you say your name was again? Mikle?"

"Mikail," Mikail corrects her.

"Mikail, of course, my mistake. Well _Mikail, _now we eat, I'm not sure about you two but I'm starved." Seraphina says as she walks in, her giant heels slapping against the flor, calling the attention of the two people already seated there.

I recognise them from clips of previous years in the Hunger Games. The man is somewhere in his fifties and wears and a pleasant and sympathetic expression, seeing our awkwardness with Seraphina while the woman (somewhere in her forties) gives us a small smile.

"Mikle, Adelie, these are your mentors," she points to the woman, "Wiress," she points to the man, "and Beetee," she introduces us as she sits down.

"Nice to meet you," Beetee says, giving us a kind smile while Wiress nods in agreement.

"Umm, it's Adelina and Mikail," I correct her Seraphina who gives a derisive snort before I turn to Wiress and Beetee, "And it's nice to meet you both too."

"_Mikail, _you work with Beetee, and _Adelina,_" Seraphina says, stressing our names, "You work with Wiress."

I turn to Wiress who gives me a reassuring smile, as if to say 'don't worry I'll look after you.'

My shaky smile in reply seems to scream, 'I really hope that you can.'

Dinner is eaten in silence, with the exception of Seraphina, who is rattling on about her ideas for what the designers should make their tributes wear and how rude they are whenever she tries to put in some helpful input, but no one pays any attention to her. Occasionally Beetee, or Wiress, or Mikail or I try and change the subject to something more practical, like how we'd survive the Hunger Games, only to be met with a harsh glare from Seraphina for interrupting her thoughts on fashion.

"Alright, everyone stop eating," she announces after she's scraped her plate clean of any food. "The reapings will be broadcast soon." Judging by the look on her face, Seraphina is expecting all of us to drop everything instantly and rush over to the television like she's suggested. Both Wiress and Beetee exchange looks while Mikail and I slowly lower our forks, unsure of what to do.

"Let us finish eating first Seraphina," Beetee says calmly, "I'm sure it won't matter much."

Seraphina sends him a filthy look, annoyed at him for disagreeing with her before rising from her chair and walking out of the room. "Fine then, suit yourselves."

"Don't worry yourselves," Beetee says, swallowing a large mouthful of food, "She's always like this. Just ignore her, she'll get over it soon enough."

"I heard that!" Seraphina's voice calls from outside the room.

Both Mikail and I stifle laughs at Beetee's paled expression.

As it turns out, finishing dinner before going to watch the televised recap of the reapings did do some harm.

Mikail, Beetee, Wiress and I almost miss the reapings of District 1, only seeing a girl and a boy shake hands before it moves to District 2's reaping. _I'm dead, _I think as a (admittedly handsome) boy volunteers with muscles and arrogance that only years of training could bring. I look pathetic as I'm called up to the stage in District 3's reaping. My entire body is shaking from fright and my eyes glisten with unshed tears in my eyes as I stand on the stage, looking helplessly into the crowd. Mikail doesn't look much better, though more stable than I do. The reapings continue without much difference from the years before, with the exception of a girl from District 12 rushing forward to volunteer in the place of a girl that I assume to be her little sister.

Both Mikail and I are silent after the reapings end, going over all the threats that the other tributes pose. I can see Beetee and Wiress do the same, considering how they can get us to survive. Seraphina is the only one who doesn't look sad or thoughtful, instead she wears a large grin on her face as she begins laughing.

"Oh, this year's going to be interesting. I can just feel it. That girl from District 12, heartbreaking. And those boys from District 2 and 11, that'll be a good fight. Personally, my money's on the boy from District 2 winning, but I guess we'll see. Can't wait can you?" she says smiling at us, as if we're going to be over the moon about her lack of faith in us. Seeing our glares at her she adds hastily, "But of course I'm hoping that you'll win."

* * *

><p>"Oh you just look gorgeous don't you? But then again, it would be a challenge not to with me as your stylist!"<p>

I try to smile at the green haired man opposite me, but I find it rather challenging. To be fair, my stylist _has _done a good job creating a look for me, but to me it isn't worth the hours of pain that I went through: Having most of my hair waxed/plucked off, the pulling at my hair in an attempt to get the many knots out, the constant arguments over which colour my hair would look better as and how close the colour is to poo.

As soon as the train arrived at the Capitol, Mikail and I were carted off separately to meet our prep teams. My prep team: Jayla (a woman with short, spiky, bright pink hair and red contacts), Alissa (a rather tall girl with long red hair and skin coloured a light shade of purple), and Harra (possibly the most normal looking of them all with shoulder length black hair and bright blue eyes... and covered in tattoos), spent more time complaining about how plain I looked than actually working on me.

At least my stylist, a man named Zen with bright green hair and orange teeth, didn't spend as much time pointing out my flaws. He focused his time on dragging on about his ideas for what each district tribute should wear and how unfair it was that none of the other stylists listened to him – I mean why not? He's only got green hair and orange teeth? – especially when he was only trying to help, and how extra stunning I needed to look so that he could show all the other designers that he was right and that next time they should be more appreciative of his ideas.

Rather a lot like what Seraphina was talking about on the train... Seraphina and Zen, a match made in heaven.

"I love it? Thankyou _so _much!" I say at last, over stretching the truth slightly. It's safer to let them think that they're as great as the think they are, better than correcting them and being forced to wear garbage bags.

"You're welcome Adelie," Zen says smiling. Another reason for him and Seraphina to get together, they both can't get my name right.

"It's Adelina," I say.

"I know, but Adelie is a nice nickname, isn't it?" Zen says beaming.

I give him another fake grin, "It's a wonderful nickname."

_No, it's really not._

**(A/N My apologies for the description of the dress, I really don't know how to describe clothes)**

I take another look in the mirror. I'm not shockingly beautiful or something clichéd like that, I look rather normal in fact. Zen has decided to dress me in a simple grey dress that reaches down to my knees, it has wires wrapping around the waist as a belt and placed randomly around the sides. It's obnoxiously tight around my waist before it becomes flowier. To Zen it's masterpiece, something beautiful that the only flaw in is it's wearer. To me, it's a nightmare.

"Here, wear these," Zen says, passing me a pair of 6 inch heels. Grey, to match the dress. _Of course._

I look at the shoes and raise an eyebrow. Not that I doubt my stylists sanity, but there is a high possibility that Zen may be insane.

"What's wrong?" Zen's face falls as he notices my sceptic look, his childish pout reminding me of a childs. "Don't you like them? Why not? Alissa and Harra wear them."

_Yes, _I think as I glance over towards my prep team, _and Alissa and Harra are the ones struggling to stand up, aren't they?_

I bite back the retort and instead force a sickly sweet smile onto my face that's based off the many that I've seen Seraphina give. "No, no, I _love _them. They're fantastic, as all of our Districts designs have been." _Liar, liar, I'm fairly sure our tributes were dressed as robots once. _"It's just that, they're a bit tall aren't they? I don't think that I'll be able to walk. I'm not _that _coordinated." I try to turn it into a joke, a weak one at that, yet it makes Zen and the team laugh nonetheless.

"You'll be fine," Zen says, "After all, you'll be on a _carriage, _you won't be doing much walking."

_Yes, but first I have to get onto the carriage and get off of it, all without falling over and breaking my leg._

I try to rebut, yet my argument is drowned out by coos of how adorable I look when Jayla and Harra force the small shoes onto my feet.

"Off you go Adelie, be that shining star I know is in you somewhere. You can thank us later," Zen grins as he pushes me out of the room and closes the door behind me before I have the chance to tell him that he got my shoe size wrong.

* * *

><p>I wait until I've entered the room where the chariotss wait, far from the sight of any wandering Prep team member or stylist who might risk criticising Zen on his latest 'masterpiece', and in turn, mention my lack of shoes. I rip off the small heels as soon as I deem safe and run to the room where the carriages for each district await to be brought out to the crowds of the Capitol and present their tributes to the people cheering for their death. I wiggle my toes around, regaining feeling in them as I make my way over to the District 3 cart where Mikail waits looking as uncomfortable as I feel in my outfit, wearing what I assume the designers think to be a smart suit, yet only succeeds in making him bear a striking similarity to a robot.<p>

As District 3 is the home of technology, its chariot is lined with high-tech gadgets and fancy machinery designed to make it look fancy and advanced, yet instead it looks crowded and overdone. I'd rather not enter the rather uncomfortable looking vehicle and instead bide my time standing next to Mikail studying what the other tributes wear.

From District 1, the tributes look stunning, dressed in fancy clothes, encrusted with tiny jewels.

The tributes from District 2 look even more threatening in real life than from on the screen. I shrink back unconsciously closer to the chariot, willing myself away from their attention that I know will only lead to trouble.

Although these four are the only ones with good designers it seems, as the rest of the clothing goes downhill. There's Mikail and I, blending in with out carriage, the tributes from District 4, closely resembling fish, and the boy and girl from District 7 are dressed as trees.

A small tap on my shoulder returns my attention to Mikail as he indicates to the tributes from District 1 leaving out to the cheering crowds of the Capitol on their beautiful coach. I nod in reply, taking the hint that he wants to get onto the chariot. I place one of the grey heels onto the ground while I attempt to force the other onto my foot, far larger than the small shoes. After a few moments spent wrestling with my feet, I manage to get both of the shoes on my feet. I wince as I stand, the shoes rubbing against my feet as I attempt to walk to the chariot.

I only manage to stumble for a few seconds before I trip on my own feet, falling to the ground with a small thud, attracting the attention of the tributes from the two Districts beside me. The girl and boy from District 4 look away with little interest in me while Mikail cracks a small grin at my clumsiness, the same way that he'd smile at Seraphina's bossy attitude. The reaction from the tributes from District 2 however, is a cruel, mocking laugh from the girl, while the boy sneers in my direction before letting loose his own laugh, letting me know that I'll be the butt of their jokes for days.

Wonderful. Exactly what I need, to be seen as a clumsy weakling to some of the biggest threats in these Hunger Games. _Just perfect._

* * *

><p>I've never liked crowds. Not one bit. The reporters at the train station earlier were enough to set me on edge, the crowds that I pass through on the chariot have me wanting to throw up. Astonishingly, I manage to keep a small, weak smile on my face the entire time, which is a small victory in itself, the occasional wave to the crowds seems like a miracle. Were this mob made from people not from the Capitol, they'd have been discouraged by my nervous reaction, their cheers would die down to faint whispers, discussing either their own personal lives, or the boredom that I present.<p>

But the crowd consists of citizens of the Capitol, and they are well used to screaming and cheering for all tributes that pass, no matter how pathetic, albeit quietly if extremely weak. To them, the small gestures are signs of encouragement for them to cheer louder, those in the group at which my wave was directed at being the special few who managed to bring the shy girl out of her shell.

I'm relieved when we reach the Training Center, and I'm given the chance to escape from the public eye. I wait calmly with mine and Mikail's Prep Teams and Stylists as we watch the rest of the tributes chariots pass through. Both Zen, Seraphina, Alissa, Jayla, Harra, and each member of Mikail's Prep Team (three eccentrically dressed women with extremely forgettable names), each make their own comments on the tributes clothing choice. Only Mikail's stylist, a woman named Zara with light brown hair and deep brown eyes, stays silent and doesn't waste her breath with complaints. Her silence is a refreshing break from the endless chatter of my stylists, and I envy Mikail for having a more tolerable stylist than my own.

It is only when the tributes for District 12 appear that the chattering group quiet. The girl and boy enter, waving to the crowds and smiling. The fact that they're holding hands is enough of a difference from every other tribute to cause a stir. I think of my own reception with Mikail, I never faced him once. Then again, that was because I didn't want to focus on the other half of the crowd.

But their clasped hands aren't what causes the audiences screams and shrieks of amazment and wonder. What does is that they're on fire. Or appear to be on fire. Or have insane stylists and mentors who decided that testing how long they could go while being burned alive without screaming.

"Astonishing," Zara speaks for the first time, her hushed voice barely audible over the audiences loud cries of glee.

Seraphina is the next to make a comment. "Simply amazing, can't you just see it? The Girl on Fire. She'll be swarmed with sponsors, both of them will."

Zen scoffs, a look of annoyance etched clearly on his face. "Not bad for a newbie," he says reluctantly before he and Seraphina begins rattling off ideas on what Mikail and I should wear for our interviews.

I sigh and shake my head. Already I can tell that I'm not going to like what the stylists have planned for me next.

* * *

><p><strong>So I hope that you liked this chapter.<strong>

**And now for a special bonus! I'm going to let you on a little secret.**

**See that button down there? The one next to the speech bubble that says 'Review this Story'. If you click on it, then you can write a review. Mind blowing, I know. Ironically the more reviews I get the faster I update *wink wink nudge nudge***


	3. Cato

**Yes, I updated! VICTORY! Why is it a victory? Because I was going to leave it 'till later, because I'm lazy like that.**

**Speaking of lazy, this one's slightly shorter than the others. I was originally going to make it longer, but I've decided to split it in two.**

**And Cato appears in this chapter! YAY!**

**So anyway, another thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and then proceeded to alert/favourited the story. And those who just alert/favourited. What would I do without you?**

**Rhetorical question. Don't answer that.**

**As I'm sure you've all noticed, The Hunger Games was written by Suzanne Collins... and I'm not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 - Cato<strong>

"_Pathetic," the District 2 girl sneers, twirling two razor sharp knives in her hands, "Truly pathetic, I was expecting more."_

_I stumble backwards into a tree. I see others surrounding me, cutting off all routes of escape. Going forward? Straight into the girl. To my left? No, I don't fancy getting scewered by a spear. To the right? Giant sword. Not good._

_I'm cornered. No way out. I'm going to die, and that's all there is to it. The girl from District 1 sends an arrow whizzing towards my head. I don't duck, a simple, painless end is the best I can ask for. Her arrow impales itself deeply in the tree, missing me by millimetres. As does the knife thrown by the girl, piercing the bit of tree slightly to the left of my neck._

_They're playing with me. There's no easy way out of this. Eventually one of them will hit me. An arrow or a knife will go straight to the tree, via me. Of course it won't hit my heart, or any other vital organs for that matter. Nothing that will make me die on the spot. Prolong the fun._

_But rest assured, I will die. Slowly and painfully._

_I move further into the tree, and close my eyes, waiting for death._

_The last sight I see is the boy from District 2 holding a deadly sword, lunging towards me._

I awake gasping for breath. It takes me a few moments to grasp my surroundings, and I hold back the scream building in my throat just in time.

I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, hoping that when I open them I'll be back home, away from the overly luxurious rooms of the Capitol. It's no good. I remain in the soft mattress, and even in the dark I can make out the shape of the exquisite furniture in the large room. I sit up in the bed, moving the sheets away and get out of bed. I spare a glance at the clock the sits on the bedside table. _4:30 AM. _I see little use in staying awake yet closing my eyes and sleeping with the images from my dream still flickering through my mind seems unbearable.

I roll around in the bed, missing the creaking noise that my own would make had I done this at home. Were I at home in this situation, I would go back to sleep, or wake up Grandma, or walk to Cora's house (around the corner from my own), so she could be awake with me. I give up on my feeble search for comfort, and push the covers away once more and reach for the pair of slippers that I've left under the bed, but I pause once I have them in my grasp. I hold them in my hands for a few moments, slightly amazed at how soft they are in comparison to any of the shoes that I'd wear at home. The entire floor is covered in soft, plush carpet and I see little use in wearing them inside, the only reason I wore them earlier when I first came here was because of Seraphina's constant whinging about mine and Mikail's lack of gratitude for the clothes we were graciously offered.

I step out of the bed and onto the floor, rolling my toes in the soft carpet, and head for the door. I ignore both the jacket and dressing gown that I've thrown lazily over the mahogany desk that sits on the far edge of the room. I see no use for them; I've faced colder temperatures back home when going out for a midnight stroll back home.

I glance around the main room in our floor and tiptoe across the room, wary of waking up anybody (particularly a grouchy beauty-sleep-wanting Seraphina). Once I reach the safety of the door, I open it and walk to the elevator, pressing the button that will take me to the roof, the one place that I hadn't been given the chance to look at. I expect to see the tops of buildings in a crowded city. Nothing special. In fact, an ordinary sight would be rather nice, some sign that the Capitol isn't as amazing as it seems, almost like there's a crack in their perfect shell that only I can see. A weakness that I can remember when I'm in the arena and feeling particularly bitter.

Unfortunately, the view from the top is astonishing. It's still dark yet the tiniest peeks of sunlight can be seen, making the mood seem lighter somehow. Despite them time lights can be seen flickering from the windows of the buildings, adding to the magic feel.

I find this to be the nicest place in the Capitol, the place where I'm rid of my nightmares and fears, despite that below me sleep 23 others, one of whom is going to kill me. I watch as slowly more and more lights turn on from the buildings surrounding me, and the city awakes from its slumber.

I close my eyes, trying to savour the moment, the feeling of being free. But eventually I have to return back to reality, and so I begrudgingly make my way down the elevator and back to floor 3.

Wiress, Mikail and Beetee are already awake and eating breakfast when I walk through the door.

"There you are," Beetee grins warmly when he sees me, "We were wandering where you'd gone off to."

"Just for a small walk," I reply as I move to the dining table and help myself to a slice of toast.

"Eat up," Wiress says as she notes the small piece of toast that I've taken, her voice is soft and light, causing me to strain my ears to hear her, "Training starts today."

_Don't remind me._

* * *

><p>I stand in a room alongside Mikail, glancing nervously at the other tributes, sizing them up and dividing them into groups. The ones that I could possibly beat, the ones that I'd stand an equal chance against, the one that could beat me, the ones that would definitely beat me and the 'STOP WASTING TIME! JUST RUN!'<p>

Wiress gave me a few instructions during breakfast. First of all, to try everything. Get a basic skill with as many weapons as possible, that way if you manage to find one in the arena I'll be able to use it. Also to try and memorize as many edible foods and plants as possible... because it would suck if I died from eating a poisonous mushroom.

When we're all told to begin our training everyone spreads off in different directions. The first station that I head to is the knife station. I watch as the girl from District 2 sends one straight into the heart of the dummy. Someone just got promoted to the 'STOP WASTING TIME! JUST RUN!' group.

I attempt to copy how the trainer at this station demonstrated, of course I don't manage to hit the dummy on the first go, the knife flies past the dummy, missing it's hand by inches... as does the second, and third, and fourth, and fifth... After which I give up and decide to return to it later.

Something about the trainer from the spear station annoys me. Perhaps its how he laugh when I first turned up after making a comment to another trainer about 'how weak some of these tributes are,' forgetting that I was standing next to him. It's also how he talks to me.

"Now this is a spear," he says, speaking slowly as if talking to a child. He speaks like this the entire time, enunciating his words slowly as if I won't understand otherwise as he goes through a series of complex moves in order to throw the spear at the dummy.

"Here, why don't you start off with this five metre dummy," he points to the closest dummy and I try not to roll my eyes in annoyance, "And take the lightest spear, so that it's easier."

I smile sweetly at the trainer, trying to bottle down the anger inside of me as he speaks to me like an idiot. I take the spear that he holds out, aim as he instructed and throw. My spear sails through the air before it clatters to the ground, not even close to the target. I sigh slightly annoyed at how I fail to even hit the closest target. I can tell that the trainer is trying not to laugh as I turn to him to ask for some help, only to find that he's turned to the trainer he was talking to earlier, snickering to each other as they point out the weaklings from each station.

I hear a laugh from behind me and spin to see the boy from District 2, grinning like a maniac. I muster up all the courage and attitude I have to glare at him and not be intimidated by his tall posture. "Something funny?" I ask.

The boy's grin turns into a smirk. "That was pathetic," he says, his words bearing a striking similarity to those in my dream.

"Yes, well it _was _my first attempt, I wasn't expecting to hit the target. I'll get better at it, that _is _the whole point of training," my excuse sounds weak to my ears, yet I try and say it with as much confidence as I can.

"If you continue on like that? No, you won't," the boy says, a look of supreme arrogance on his face.

I narrow my eyes, "I'm just doing what the trainer said, he's the expert." I nod to where the man is demonstrating how to throw a spear to another tribute, hitting a dummy 10 metres away.

"He's also an idiot." District 2 says, following my gaze.

"And I suppose you could do better?" The challenge is clear from the doubt in my voice.

His response is another smirk as he picks up on of the heavier spears and sends it into the heart of a dummy 15 metres away.

I'm reduced to staring at him like an idiot as I struggle to come up with a witty remark. "Not bad," I choke out at last, trying to regain some of my earlier attitude. The smirk on his face is enough to ignite a small spark of anger in me, only enough for me to stop the gawk on my face as my hopes of getting out of the Games alive sink even further.

"I know," he says cockily, "That was the whole point."

Sensing that there is no way for me to win the miniature argument, I turn away from him picking up another light spear and aiming it at ten metre dummy and throwing. This time the spear goes slightly closer to the dummy yet still doesn't hit it.

I sigh, and turn to pick up another one, aiming it once again at the dummy determined to get it closer than the last time when someone interrupts me.

"You're holding it wrong," District 2 says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he walks over to me. "Here," he says, changing my grip on the spear to a slightly more comfortable one, "Try it now."

I do. The spear sails through the air further than before, yet far to the left of the dummy. I close my eyes in frustration and turn to pick up another spear, seeing District 2 open his mouth to say something else I interrupt him, "Pathetic, I know. No need to remind me."

He shrugs, "Not really, you're just aiming wrong."

"And throwing, and not hitting the target, and–"

"Do you want me to help you or not?" District 2 cuts me off, rolling his eyes at my outburst.

I narrow my own but nod at him, "I actually never asked you to, but yes, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Good, then shut up and watch me."

I frown yet don't make any comment as he lifts up another spear, instructing me on how to hold, aim and throw it, thankfully not treating me like a five-year-old as the instructor did. I ask questions on the odd occasion, and tell him that he's acting like an arrogant arse when he goes into unnecessarily detailed description (something to which he always laughs at me for), but otherwise watch and listen patiently, making my own feeble imitations of his spear-throwing skills, each time failing horribly.

It's after my tenth attempt that I finally turn around to District 2 with a large smile on my face.

"Why are you smiling?" he asks and I notice his irksome arrogance from earlier seeping into his once almost-likeable attitude, "You didn't hit the dummy."

I scowl at his mood, "I know I didn't hit the dummy, but it did bounce off it's face. I'm fairly sure that's enough to distract someone."

He snorts, his smirk slowly returning to his face. "Yeah, I doubt it'll do that much." I resist the urge to slap him, knowing that:

I'd get in trouble for it

I probably wouldn't even get to lay a finger on him before he stopped me

And

Even if I _did _hit him, it would most likely hurt me more than him

I send him a small glare as I turn and walk (and try not to stomp) away from the spear station.

What an annoying dick.

I turn to the knife station, once again trying my hand at throwing the small daggers. While I don't manage to hit the dummy where the heart is shown to be, or hit the head, or neck, or anywhere else that could potentially end someone's life, I do manage to send it into the right shoulder of the dummy... after a few tries. I hear someone clap sarcastically from behind me and I turn to see District 2 smirking at me once more.

"_Bravo,_" he says, mockery lacing his tone, "I don't know how I'll manage to survive with you in the arena."

I send him a glare that's quickly becoming my only expression, and try to mask the hurt I feel after being so proud of actually sticking the knife in the dummy. "Piss off," I say as I turn to leave towards a different station.

And this is how I spend my day.

I go and practice with the weapons until I can at least make one end of the weapon hit the dummy, and District 2 stalks me and gives me unwanted criticism. Although his presence does help me train. Normally when he's talking it makes it easier for me to imagine that it's his head on the dummies.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, and that's chapter 3.<strong>

**So I was rereading some of my previous chapters and found bucket loads of mistakes that I didn't spot earlier. So, I was debating getting a BETA reader. Thoughts? Any of you up to the challenge?**

**And, as always, I'm going to ask a massive favour of you... I know that it's hard to waste ten seconds of your life writing out a review. But it's for he best... Well **_**my **_**best anyway.**

**So... REVIEW!**


	4. Scores and Awkward Moments

**Sup, so I updated. Amazing, I know. You probably wouldn't be reading this pointless authors note if I hadn't.**

**Alright, again, a big, big, big, BIG thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I would be lost without you.**

**And now for some sombre news.**

**It is my deepest regret to inform you that I do not own the Hunger Games. *Dramatic music plays in background***

**Shock horror!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 - Scores and Awkward Moments<strong>

It's official. If a tribute doesn't finish me off, I'm almost certainly going to poison myself. I study the different berries, trying to determine whether they're poisonous or not. "That one," I say after a while, looking up at the trainer for the station, "Is poisonous, and that one," I point to the other, "Isn't?"

She sighs, telling me for what feels like the thousandth time that I've gotten them wrong. I frown and squeeze my eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to remember how to tell if a plant was poisonous or not.

"That one is definitely poisonous," I point to the small bit of hemlock.

The trainer nods absentmindedly, "Here, these ones," she indicates to a small group of berries and plants that I desperately try to commit the images of to memory, "Are not poisonous. If you can find them, take them. If you're not sure if it's them or not, don't eat them."

I nod, "Got it."

I turn to leave the station, deciding to come back to it later if I had the chance, to test my memory of the edible plants. I walk over to one of the less crowded weapon stations. As today is the day of the private training sessions with the Gamemakers, all the tributes are cracking down on their skills, expanding and perfecting, aiming to impress.

The least crowded station only has one tribute on it who's watching the trainer with mock interest when it's clear that he cares very little for what she's saying. I hold back the groan and the desire to turn around and go back to the food station when I see who the tribute is.

"Hello District 3, can't seem to stay away from me can you," District 2 smirks at me, implying the numerous times that he and I found ourselves training at the same stations in a very weird 'coincidence.'

"District 2, haven't given up on stalking me I see," I greet as the trainer repeats her instructions on how to use the weapon.

He snorts, "Stalking you? Never. Besides, if memory serves, _you _just came over to _me_."

I stay silent. Curse my inability to come up with witty comebacks.

The station to which I've arrived at is for flails. I watch with avid curiosity as the trainer swings the weapon (her own – obviously a flashier version of the ones at the station), the chain connecting the smooth stick to another heavily spiked one, barely has time to clink together before she smashes through the neck of the dummy.

The trainer smiles at me in encouragement, as she hands me a flail and instructs me how to hold it and goes through the steps once more as she instructs me how to swing and pull back with it. "Now you try," she says at the same moment District 2 swings the chain and sends the spikes slicing through the neck of the dummy, leaving a plastic head rolling around on the floor. "Just ignore him," the trainer adds, seeing my worried expression, "Work at your own pace."

I give her a small thankful smile as I swing the flail to the side and bring it crashing into the waist of the dummy.

The trainer nods in approval, "Good," she says, "Very good. If you could add a little more strength into the swing then you'd be lethal."

I smile and this time arc it above my head send the spikes into the shoulder of the dummy, leaving a large dent into it.

"Even I have to admit, that was pretty good," District 2 says, causing a smile to appear on my face that I try to suppress as soon as it appears. I can't help it though, something about being praised by one of the biggest threats in the games makes me feel a little happy.

"Thanks," I say.

"You need to put your whole weight behind you swing, so that you can hit harder," he advises as he attacks the dummy again.

I do as he instructed, the force of the blow I deliver tearing the arm of the dummy off, earning me a small applause from the trainer, whose name I discover (using my brilliant detective skills *cough: her nametag: cough*) is Hera.

"Very good for a first timer," she praises.

"Thanks," I say, smiling at the compliment before glancing at the clock above the door. I give the flail back to Hera, thank her once more for teaching me how to use the weapon, and leave for another station.

I move for the spear station, wanting to practice it once more before the private training session. I pick up one of the spears and send it hurtling towards the five metre dummy, ending up hitting its foot. I go to pick up another spear when I'm interrupted by a very familiar voice.

"Why'd you disappear so quickly?" District 2 asks, grinning as I jump a little in surprise.

"I learnt how to use the weapon, I covered the basics, I can move on," I reply, moving to aim the spear at the dummy once again.

"That's a stupid tactic," District 2 says bluntly, sending his own hurtling through the heart of a dummy with little effort. "You'd have a better chance at surviving if you waited until you were really good with a certain weapon, that way you could defend yourself better."

I frown at his insult at mine and Wiress' cleverly thought out plan, "But then I'd be dependant upon that one weapon, and if it's not in the cornucopia, or another tribute gets to it before I do, then I'm done for."

He shrugs, "There was time to focus on different weapons, you didn't have to work on just one. And by the way, you're throwing the spear wrong. _Again._"

I sigh as he corrects my grip on the spear. I notice that the other tributes are slowly filing out of the training room for lunch, and for their private training sessions. I aim and throw again, this time managing to get the spear to stick in the right shoulder of the dummy.

"You're getting better," District 2 says begrudgingly. "Just need to fix a few things." He places his hands on my shoulders as he angles my body so that I'm facing him and the dummies are to my side, "Now twist your body towards the dummies and throw," he hands me a spear, stepping backwards to watch me.

I shake my head and envision the spear plunging into the dummy and I throw.

I'm aware that the expression on my face probably makes me look insane, but as my spear is sent straight through the dummy's heart I couldn't care less what I look like. I can't keep the grin from appearing on my face as I barely stop myself from whooping in glee. "Thankyou," I say exasperated as I turn and embrace District 2 in a tight hug. It takes me a second to realise what I did as he stiffens under my embrace and I quickly release him.

Oh. Wow. Gee. That was awkward.

"Oh, sorry, but _thankyou _so, so, so, so, so, much." I say, moving further away from him. Just in case he decides to pick up one of the ample weapons available and murder me for breaching his personal space barrier.

Instead he grins, a wonderful difference from that annoying smirk. "It's Cato," he says.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, as I look up at him.

"My name, it's Cato," he repeats as he walks out to the lunch room to meet up with the rest of his alliance.

"Ada," I reply, watching him disappear.

_Hang on... Ada? No. He can't call you Ada. That name is reserved for friends and family and no one else. In case you haven't noticed, he's neither! In fact, he's the furthest thing from a friend. For crying out loud, he'll be trying to kill you!_

I shut out the pesky voice in my head and follow him out to lunch room just as the boy from District 1 is being called up for his training session with the Gamemakers. I take my seat at the table I normally sit at, watching the rest of the Careers start striking up the same obnoxiously loud conversation that they have the past few days.

I push my food around the plate with my fork, far too nervous to eat anything... Without throwing the entire contents of my stomach up at least. I close my eyes and try to take deep, calming breaths as the girl from District 1 is called up. I focus on composing my features, attempting to keep the anxiety from showing to much. Cato is now called up, leaving the room with cheers of encouragement from the remaining Careers.

Fairly soon it's the girl from District 2. And then it's Mikail's turn. I send him an encouraging smile from where he sits across the room. I'm surprised to find that he looks rather relieved when it's his go. Oh well, I suppose it's better to get it over with than the stupid tension that's killing me.

It takes a few minutes before I'm called out to meet the Gamemakers. _Joy._

_Okay Ada, keep calm, you can do this. It doesn't matter if you get a low score. Heaps of people with low scores win... most of the time... it happened twice. But that doesn't mean that you can't make it happen three times. Stay positive._

I walk into the room, attempting to look confident and sure of myself as I present myself to the Gamemakers. I _need _a high score. A high score means sponsors, and I'll _definitely _need those. I send a silent prayer to what ever gods there are as I pick up one of the lighter spears and hurl it at one of the dummies. It doesn't make the slow-motion, dramatic arc through the dummies heart as it did last time, but it does stab the dummy through the abdomen, pushing it to the ground.

The Gamemakers nod in approval. It's enough to get me a six, maybe seven, _if _I can prove that it wasn't just a lucky shot. Which it was. I ignore the spears knowing that I won't be able to get a good shot again, and instead walk to the knives and fling one at another dummy. This one doesn't go as well, the knife misses the dummy completely, and the hilt hits the wall behind it and falls onto the ground.

I wince slightly at the pathetic image this sets for me, despite my luck with the spear.

_Okay Ada, keep calm, this isn't the end of the world. You can still get a good score, just get a good weapon and cause as much damage as you can._

I take a deep breath in a feeble attempt to calm my already raging nerves as I struggle to keep my face impassive and blank. I try and think of one last weapon I could use to wow the game makers. Spear? Done. Knife? Used and failed. Bow and arrow? Not unless I want them to laugh at me. An axe? No. The weapons are endless, a very few percent of which I know how to use, even fewer I actually can.

After a moment of deliberation, I pick up a small silver flail, swinging it in small circles with my wrist. I take a deep breath. Remember what Cato and Hera told you. Damn. This is the one time where I'll willingly say that he was right. And that maybe my tactic was to get basic skills at something and then leave once I have enough skill with a weapon to be able to use it to defend myself in a life or death situation, isn't the best idea. Oh how I wished that I could go back and practice more with the one weapon Cato could never find fault with.

I move towards a dummy to my right, swing my hand up in an arc over my head, and bring it crashing down to the dummy's neck, making sure that there's a big enough dent in it when I pull away. I then swing around, sending the spiked edges crashing through the arm of the dummy behind me and deep into its waist, ripping out the flail I spin and slam it through the dummies neck, very much like I did with the first one. I smile softly as I observe the damage I've made in the now wrecked dummies, and then turn to the Game makers, putting down the weapon so they know that I'm done.

The game makers nod curtly to me before they dismiss me. Their eyes are guarded with no emotion in them to provide as a clue if my last minute burst of violence was enough.

I keep my posture composed until I get to the floor for District 3, at which point I collapse on the large couch in exhaustion.

"How do you think you went?" I hear Mikail ask me from where he sits at the dining table.

I sit up. "I have no idea, you?"

Mikail shrugs, "I don't know either, I managed to hit one of the dummies with an arrow, but I don't think they were that impressed given that the tributes from District 2 were before me."

"Yeah, that's the annoying bit. What ever we do won't seem as good as it was compared to them," I say, letting the annoyance on my face show.

"Well what can you do?" I almost jump when I hear Beetee's voice, unaware that he was in the room earlier. "Maybe they were playing it down, acting like they were weaker than they actually are."

I smile and give a weak chuckle at his feeble attempt to cheer us up, and somehow it rings true when I imagine Cato's hulking form failing to hit a dummy with that stupid spear of his. "Somehow I doubt that they'll have done that."

* * *

><p>"Seraphina, there you are! I was looking all over for you!" Zen announces as soon as he bursts into the room, embracing rhe purple haired women who hadn't stopped moaning about how hard it was to find both Mikail and I sponsors.<p>

As our scores from the training with the game makers were being shown, Zen, Zara, and the rest of our Prep Team had turned up to watch. Within seconds of their arrival, the once peaceful floor was turned into a loud chaos

I watch, nerves racking through me as we watch the scores of District 1 (both getting a score of 8), then District 2; Cato receives 10 and his partner 9. The tension in the room is obvious when the show District 3, and even Seraphina and Zen pause their mindless chatter for this. Mikail's face appears on the screen alongside his score – 6

Beetee, Zara and Wiress give him encouraging smiles while Zen and Seraphina overdo the support and giving him an over exaggerated round of applause. Mikail smiles, obviously embarrassed by their dramatics, but touched nonetheless.

Then my face replaces Mikail's along with my score.

"Eight, that's amazing Ada!" Wiress is the first to speak, giving me a proud smile.

"Honestly, I don't think anyone was expecting that," Seraphina interrupts with what she thinks is supposed to be encouraging.

I give them a weak smile, "Really it was just luck."

"Oh stop trying to be modest, eight is a really good score," Beetee says, turning to Mikail who's attention is back to the screen, which is already showing the scores for District 5, "Both of you did brilliant."

_Don't get overconfident Ada, they're over exaggerating how good your scores are. So many tributes get an eight Ada, _I remind myself as I smile at everyone's words, _It was pure luck that you got that score. The spear almost missed the dummy, and you only got away with the flail because you managed to hit hard and fast. Really your attacks would've been easy to dodge._

I try to ignore the reasonable voice in my head. It's right, I know that it always is, but for now, I'm going to pay attention to that small, tiny, barely audible voice saying that I might just _possibly _have a chance at this.

* * *

><p><strong>If I ever found a genie in a bottle I'd ask for everyone who read this chapter to review it.<strong>

**But genies don't exist, so I'll just have to hope that my persuasive skills are enough to get you all to review and become my mindless minions.**

***Clears throat***

***Scary look in eyes***

***Extremely weird voice* Review!**

***Clears throat again***

***Voice back to normal* **_**Please.**_


	5. Interviews and Big Mistakes

_**Happy Birthday to me,**_

_**Happy Birthday to me,**_

_**Happy Birthday to meeeee,**_

_**Happy Birthday to me,**_

**Yes, you assumed right from the birthday song, today is my birthday. I am now officially 14. YAY! Just thought I'd mention that so you could all get me presents in the form of reviews *Hint hint***

**Alright now back to business, I'm sorry it took me a week to update. But I was up at my Nan's on the weekend which has no internet access, and then I went to Taylor Swift's concert on Monday, and then I had to write a speech for English, and then I actually wrote the chapter... and here it is now.**

**And a big, big, big, BIG thanks to every one who reviewed the last chapter. You're all awesome.**

**As for the disclaimer... Meh, who cares? It's my birthday, I OWN THE HUNGER GAMES!.. No, you don't believe me, do you?**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 - Interviews and Big Mistakes<strong>

"Wakey, wakey," a singsong voice rings out through the room, "Rise and shine. Up and at 'em. It's a brand new day. The sun's shining, the birds are singing–"

"I'm up," I say as Seraphina flips a switch, flooding the room in blinding light causing me to shield my eyes.

"Then get up, you've got a big day ahead of you," Seraphina is smiling as she waltzes around the room, throwing back the covers of the bed. "What with the interviews and everything. Do you know how little time I've been given to get you ready? Zen and I were talking earlier and it was a mutual agreement that you need more work than Mikail does."

I frown at the criticism but slowly sit up from the bed, using my elbows to prop me up. "And you're waking me up at," I look over to the digital clock, "3:30 for what?"

Seraphina looks annoyed and I notice her cheery façade begin to crack and a foul mood slowly replaces it, "I told you, I have to find a way to make you look nice. And who better to fool everyone into believing that you're not a complete outcast, than me?"

_Hmm, let me think. How about . . . Anyone who isn't you?_

Seraphina doesn't give me time to use my sarcastic response before she continues, "Now to the problem, who are we going to present you as?" In response to my curious look she clarifies, "You know, the gorgeous type, which we can't do for obvious reasons," she eyes my bed hair. "There's the cunning, smart type, which again, is not available to us. Tough competitor and obvious rival, which your training score could help to, but you just don't look the part." Apparently there's something wrong with looking tired at three in the morning. The overzealous woman goes on, "On second thoughts, this will need even more work than I predicted," as if at a last resort she asks, "Do you have any ideas, Adelie?"

Blank stare.

"You're impossible," Seraphina cries, "Why is it so hard for you to act like a normal person!"

"It's not my fault I'm socially awkward!" Clearly someone needs to stop waking up at three.

It seems I've warranted the hand wave of exasperation, as the purple-haired monster storms out of the room in a huff.

"It's Adelina by the way!" I call out after her. The response is the slamming of the door, which I'm surprised to find still on its hinges.

I flop back on the bed, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep before Seraphina decides to return for round two.

I'm aware of the door opening once more and to my surprise it's not Seraphina who enters, it seems she doesn't have the patience to deal with me. Zen and Zara loom over my bed, inhumanly wide smiles on their faces.

"What?" I ask, instantly wary of what could cause the usually timid Zara to sink to the level of Zen.

"We've got a _big _day planned," Zen says, giving me a big toothy grin, his orange teeth shining... or are they glowing?

I sigh and roll over on my belly, feigning tiredness even though I'm wide awake after Seraphina's annoying wake up call. "Five more minutes," I mumble through the pillow, desperately hoping that they'll leave me be.

Alas, I have no such luck. "Come on," Zen says with as much patience as Seraphina, "We've got to get started."

I roll my eyes as he turns and stalks out the room, forgetting that he has the power to make me look ridiculous, only to be caught by Zara who gives me a knowing smile.

"You better hurry," she says when Zen is out of earshot, "Seraphina's about to throw a fit. It's quite funny really."

This makes me sit up almost instantly as I rush to get dressed in order to see Seraphina erupt.

True to Zara's warning, Seraphina is in the middle of a breakdown when I walk into the main room and I resist the urge to walk back into the bedroom before she sees me.

"Where have you been? I went to wake you up _ages _ago! Do you understand exactly how much stress has been put on me thanks to you two? I have to find a way to make you seem generally likeable! And don't even get me started on _him,_" she sends a filthy look towards Mikail who's eating a slice of toast, looking just as tired as I do.

"Stop talking _please,_" he moans after polishing off the toast, and leans against the wall behind him, "I need at least half an hour to fully wake up."

"Hopeless, the lot of you! Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless, hopeless, hopeless!" Seraphina yells, stamping her foot with each word. "And where are those useless mentors? I woke them up over an hour ago and they've already gone back to sleep! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS HOW IMPORTANT THESE INTERVIEWS ARE!"

I open my mouth to point out that we'd all be more concentrated on what she was saying and getting ready for the interviews if she'd woken us up three hours later, but am silenced by a quick warning shake of the head from Zara.

"There you are! What took you so long?" Seraphinas attention is turned to Wiress who is slowly emerging from her room, obviously startled at the reception given.

"Sorry," she starts in a small and tired voice, "I must've fallen asleep."

"That's not good enough!" Seraphina screeches. I struggle not to laugh at her tantrum and the way her normally perfect appearance is slowly falling apart from the wisps of hair falling across her face to her clothes wrinkling and becoming more and more unkempt with each scream of fury.

"What's with all the yelling?" Beetee asks as he emerges from his own room.

_Wrong thing to say._

"_What's with the yelling?" _Seraphina hisses through gritted teeth before she explodes, "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT'S WITH THE YELLING!"

_- 2 hours and 33 minutes later –_

After we finally manage to calm Seraphina down through multiple promises to be on our best behaviour and to take her word as law, we begin our 'Interview Boot Camp' as Seraphina refers to it as.

"Alright, now, I think we talked about this earlier, what are you going to do for your interview?" Seraphina says as she sits down opposite me on the mahogany dining table.

"Umm, isn't Wiress supposed to be doing this with me?" I ask, desperate for any excuse to stay away from the on-the-verge-of-exploding Seraphina.

She pulls a face, "Well, I suppose _technically _she should, but she's just been so tired lately, what with having to wake up at three in the morning, I thought that it would be best for us to work together."

I don't add that she was the one who suggested that everyone wake at the terrible hour, and listen to her continue about how she thinks I should act through out my interview. After spending an hours going through these and making me try to be flirtatious, dangerous and funny, she gives up in a manner similar to what she did earlier.

"Forget it," she says, throwing her hands up in the air, making me worry that she'll erupt like earlier. Thankfully after taking a few deep breaths she continues in a much calmer tone, "Just be yourself."

I'm flattered... slightly. This is possibly one of the nicest things that Seraphina has ever said to me. Of course she then goes and ruins the moment by saying, "And by that I mean act normal... so not even close to what you normally act like."

_Oh well, it was nice while it lasted._

* * *

><p>The clothes Zen and Zara have created for Mikail and I are very similar to the ones the first created for us for our chariot rides, the only difference between the two is that instead of a dull grey colour, these are a bright silver colour that shines and sparkles whenever hit by direct light, the effect rather stunning.<p>

Thankfully Zen hasn't given me high heels to wear, instead giving me silver ballet flats that, once again, are a size two small. But I figure that I can live with the blisters if it means no more heels.

"So, what do you think?" Zen asks as he inspects me, looking for any final details to add.

"It's amazing," I say, actually meaning it this time.

Zen smiles, as if noticing my sincerity and is truly flattered. "Alright, all done."

"Thanks," I say, becoming more worried for my interview.

"Oh you'll do fine," Zen says, once again back to his loud self as he all but pushes me out of the room. "Just don't forget to be that interesting girl that I know is in you somewhere."

_Evidently it's buried deep, deep, deep down._

Once again, coming from District 3 has not helped me at all. When the time comes for my interview I've only been able to watch four other tributes interviews, each with a completely different approach to anything that I could even hope to pull off.

The beautiful girl from District 1 easily pulls off the sexy look and the girl from District 2 looks dangerous and lethal, neither of which I could make an impression with.

Oh yes, this shall be fun.

I try to place a smile on my face as Caesar interviews me, asking about my family and friends back home. I suppose this is supposed to be one of those questions that get the tributes that are obviously made to calm the nervous tributes down slightly, but it doesn't work with me as I tell him about how Grandma raised me practically single handed and about Cora and Harley, feeling as if I'm saying too much or spilling some secrets that I know I shouldn't. Caesar then moves onto my training score, asking me how I feel about it and telling me how it's a very good one.

"Eight," he says, encouraging the audience to cheer, "It's a brilliant score."

"Thankyou," I say and remain tight lipped, getting more nervous and panicky with each reminder of the audience.

This is how my interview plays out until, to my relief, the buzzer rings, signalling the end of my interview. Caesar shakes my hand before I leave and attempt not to run away and hide under a table to get away from the crowd.

I sneak a glance at Wiress, Zara and Beetee, searching for any indication on how I've gone, but their gazes are on Mikail as he stutters his way through his own interview, though in a slightly smoother form. I don't bother with Seraphina and Zen, I know that Seraphina will be watching the rest of the interviews like they're her lifeline, and Zen won't be paying attention to the interviews at all, instead wondering how to change each tributes outfits once more.

* * *

><p>After what feels like eons, the interviews finally end after a twist ending with the boy from District 12 announcing his love for his fellow tribute, of course, and we're allowed to return to our rooms.<p>

I flop down on the couch much like I did after my private training session, blocking out Seraphina's run-through of the interviews with her own commentary added. Thankfully she skips over what she thought of both mine and Mikail's interviews, sensing that with the Hunger Games tomorrow, neither of us want to hear any criticism.

"Are you alright?" Wiress asks me, a few hours after the interviews and we've both changed back into our normal clothes.

I look up at her seemingly helpless face. As a previous tribute she understands all to well the nerves and fear that is racking through me in my final hours before the games.

I look nod absentmindedly, "Can I have some time to myself?" I ask, feeling relieved when she nods and leaves me to my own thoughts.

I stand in the room for a minute, thinking about where I can escape to think before I decide on the perfect place and slowly make my way up to the roof.

It's beautiful, as always, and with the sun setting and hitting the glass on all the buildings just right to create an almost perfect scene. Unfortunately the scene isn't for my eyes only as I gaze to an all too familiar figure sitting on the ground by the edge of the roof.

"What are you doing up here?" the words are out of my mouth before I can register how rude they sound. Not a good thing when facing someone who could ensure that your death is slow and painful.

Cato raises an eyebrow, "I'm sitting down. What does it look like I'm doing?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, "You know what I mean. How did you get up here?"

"What, you mean getting past the security guards and cameras?" he laughs, "This isn't exactly the hardest place to find."

"But I thought–" I stop myself. It was stupid to think that I'd be the only person who knew how to get there. Pity.

Cato pats the spot next to him, "Sit," he commands. I roll my eyes at his tone but sit down, wary at first of the possibility of him pushing me off, but that fades as I recall the force field in place to prevent tributes from jumping. And I gaze out at the view the Capitol offers at sunset.

"It's beautiful," I say, breaking the silence.

Cato nods in agreement, "Pity that this is the last time you can see it."

The words hit me like a slap in the face. I know that it's true, and that everybody is thinking it, but no ones actually outright said 'you are going to die.'

I send him glare and say through gritted teeth, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs and gives me that annoying, cocky smile, "I'd think it obvious."

I stand up. "And how do you know that I won't come back?" I mean it to sound confident yet it comes out weak, and makes me sound really naive when I look back at Cato, who's standing now as well.

His response is a vicious smile that makes the urge to hit him fire up as he steps forward, almost daring me to shrink back and prove that he has some power over me. I narrow my eyes and take a step towards him so that our faces are inches apart. Unfortunately the consequences of such actions don't run through my mind.

And then suddenly he leans down and crashes his lips against mine and all common sense flies out the window. I push myself up against him and wrap my arms around his neck as his own move around my waist, forgetting that I'm supposed to be furious with him as I return the kiss with as much passion as I can muster. For once the small voice that normally speaks up whenever I do something unbelievably stupid is quiet, as if allowing me this small reprieve from the horrors that will occur tomorrow. Either than that or the rest of my brain that's tired of it have finally managed to put a gag around its mouth.

It's only when both Cato and I part for breath that the voice escapes from whatever binds were forcing its earlier silence and attacks me with a large and unwanted dose of reality.

_What are you doing? You don't have time to do this! The Hunger Games are tomorrow! Face it; You. Are. Going. To. Die. Tomorrow. And Cato's as likely as anyone to be the tribute to do the deed._

_Did you even pause to think that this might be a part of a plan? That you're just a toy that he can play with and discard as soon as necessary?_

Most of me wants to ignore that voice, after beating it to a pulp, but I can't argue that it isn't right. I look up at Cato, once more he's smirking, seeing the kiss as a sort of triumph over another tribute. I frown and take a step back as the voice of reason assaults me with images once more.

_The Hunger Games._

_The tributes._

_My friends and family back home._

_This is a life or death situation._

_There's only one winner._

_Cato._

_Is._

_The._

_Enemy._

And suddenly the truth slams down on me and I realise that I've just done the stupidest and most idiotic thing that I could possibly do.

And so I do the only thing that I can.

I run.

* * *

><p><strong>So I've mentioned already that it's my birthday today, so maybe you could review and make me happy? Please?<strong>


	6. The Arena

**Hiya everyone.**

**I have this REALLY important poll on my profile concerning this story. So if you have any time _please _vote, it's really super mega extra espescially important. So important that I can't even finish this fanfiction without it! So yeah, vote.**

**Once again a BIG thankyou to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you're all officially awesome. Yes, you may have been awesome before, but I just made it official.**

**Whoo! The Hunger Games comes out in two days! So excited, I mentioned it earlier, but I'm seeing it in Gold Class! I never get to see anything in Gold Class (probably because it's so expensive... but anyway).**

**So, **_**surprise, surprise, **_**I don't own the Hunger Games. No need to rub it in.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 - The Arena<strong>

I'm awake for hours before anyone comes to wake me up. I suppose it would be smarter to try and sleep before I enter the arena, to conserve my energy and stay awake I guess. It's no use though, no matter how many times I toss and turn and move the pillow or how tightly I squeeze my eyes shut, my mind remains alert.

I keep on flashing back to the events of last night, each recollection like a slap in the face as I know that tomorrow one of us will die. Most likely me.

I take a deep breath and attempt to push away the memory of how Cato's lips felt against mine.

_Snap out of it. Focus on something more important... like how to prolong your impending doom!_

I attempt to place my attention on remembering what Wiress told me before she, Beetee and Seraphina left, leaving Zen and Zara to look after us.

"_Okay, now as soon as the games begin almost all the tributes head straight to the Cornucopia, and that's where I want you to go too. I know that it doesn't seem smart, but some of the items there can really help you later on. Try to pick up a weapon of some kind, but that'll lead you into the middle of the Cornucopia, if you don't want to d that then pick up a backpack at least, and don't doubt the value of anything." Wiress told me, her eyes deadly serious, void of all emotion as she instructed me on what to do in the arena, she waited for me to nod my head in understanding before she continued:_

"_Once you get something then run away as fast as you can, if you're quick enough you'll be able to gat away in the middle of all the fighting when everyone's distracted. Don't stop running until you're 100% sure that you're far, far away from the other tributes. Then find water, remember where it is and use it to find your way around the arena, find where the non-poisonous food is, find the good hiding spots, try and find out the location of everything you can. Map out the arena in your head, Ada, and you'll have the advantage. You'll now where you're going. You understand?"_

_Her voice reminded me of both Cora and Harley's when I left them. "Y-yes, I understand."_

_Wiress sighed as if disappointed in herself, "That's all I can do for you now. Just remember what I told you. You're smart Ada, you can do it."_

_I simply nodded, unable to say any more as she gave me a quick hug, "Good luck Ada."_

"_Thankyou," I said before I was whisked around to face Seraphina, not to be outdone in heartfelt goodbyes, she promptly burst into tears upon seeing me._

"_Oh, I am going to miss you two so much!" she cried, throwing her arms around me, her makeup smudged. "But don't you two worry, I'm going to get you as many sponsors as I can, no matter what you've done to me, or how little you helped out. Because that's the kind of person I am." Upon finding her reflection she promptly added, "And now look what you've done. My makeup is ruined!"_

I let out a yawn as sleep finally starts to creep up on me. Which is when Zara enters the room to wake me.

"Already awake?" she asks, not at all surprised, as if this is something she'd used to.

"Couldn't sleep," I say, getting out of the bed.

She nods, "Most can't."

Mikail's awake and eating breakfast when I enter the main room. I give him a small nod as I take the seat furthest from him and he even goes to the effort of shifting down a few seats form me so that we are as far away from each other as we can get without falling of our chairs. I don't make any other contact with Mikail and he makes as much effort as I do. It'd only make it harder in the end.

Zen and Zara join us not long after, silent with a sad expression on their faces, as sombre as the occasion demands. Breakfast is eaten in an uncomfortable silence and even Zen is docile enough to keep his normally insensitive chatter to a minimum.

The moment I've polished off my food I stand up and leave the table, giving a short, "Goodbye," to both Mikail and Zara.

Zen follows me out barely a moment later. He along with a few other Peacekeepers lead me out the hovercraft which will take me to my Launch Room (or as most people back home call it, the Stockyard) located somewhere under the arena.

Once in the machine I'm injected with a small tracking device which will allow the Gamemakers to follow my every move. After that the hovercraft is thrown into an unearthly silence that makes the scene at breakfast seem like a screaming match in comparison.

No one talks. No one makes a sound. The pilots and Peacekeepers make no attempt at conversation with each other, either because of they've been trained not to do so or out of respect for the tribute they guard, and are leaving me to my thoughts.

My dreadful, horrifying thoughts on all the possible ways that I can be brutally murdered.

_Thanks for that._

After a half an hour long ride we stop and Zen and I are given instructions on how to find our way through the labyrinth tunnels and locate my Launch Room where I'm given the clothes that I wear in the arena, no different from those of the other tributes. Once I'm dressed Zen and I sit on the couch in yet another uncomfortable silence until it is broken by Zen who brings something out of his pocket with a little jump.

"I almost forgot. Here, I believe this is yours," Zen hands me a small package that I immediately recognise as Grandma's parting gift to me.

I unwrap the cloth, already know what's inside. "Thankyou," I say pulling the hairpin from its packaging.

I suppose that from someone else's point of view the clip isn't much, it's a small, black thing, the only colour on it is the two sapphires on the very edge of it. I'm surprised that the stylist hasn't made any comment on it, and even more so when Zen helps me place it in my hair and somehow I feel safer with it on, like Grandma's there to keep me safe somehow.

Of course that's not true, but it still brings some level of comfort wearing the same pin that I've never seen Grandma without.

"Are you ready?" Zen interrupts my thoughts.

"Well saying no isn't going to make much difference is it?" I say as I walk to the glass tube and stand on the metal plate.

"Thankyou," I give Zen a goodbye smile as the metal plate slowly inches its way up until I'm at the surface of the arena.

There's a split second of silence before the voice of Claudius Templesmith, the commentator of the Hunger Games announce, "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

And the count down begins.

60

59

58

57

56

55

_Okay Ada, remember what Wiress told you. Get a pack or anything useful and close and run. Find water. Find food. Map out your surroundings. Hide._

34

33

32

31

30

29

28

27

_Keep calm, deep breaths. You'll be fine. Just grab a pack. You can do it. You'll need whatever's in it later. You'll be able to last the ten seconds it takes to pick it up. Just be fast._

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

And then everything is thrown into chaos. Almost everyone makes a beeline for the Cornucopia. I notice that the boy from District 11 doesn't even bother with the weapons, despite that he'd be far more lethal with them, and heads for the long grass on one side of the arena, and I'm glad to see Mikail fleeing from the tributes already attacking one another.

Unfortunately there are no packs near me and I'm forced to run closer to the Cornucopia than I'd like. I deliberate leaving and fleeing the scene, but only for a split second before I continue my dead sprint, realising that pausing for a moment could mean my death.

I manage to reach the pack before someone takes a shot at killing me. A knife comes whizzing past me, thankfully thrown by a tribute with little training and terrible aim.

_Not so good for him. Throwing away your only defence? Bad move. _I think as the boy from District 1 appears from behind him, thrusting a giant sword into his heart, stopping for a short second, debating whether or not I'd be worth the chase, before deciding to leave me for someone else, and turns and attacks another tribute close to him.

I'm lucky and escape to the trees that surround the arena – save for the giant lake to one side and the grass that the District 11 boy escaped into earlier – before another tribute tries to pick me off, but I don't slow my pace, even as the trees cloud my quick glances back at the Cornucopia until I can no longer see the fighting tributes. It's then that I slow down to a walk to relieve my burning lungs, as I gaze around, observing my surroundings.

And then I collide into another tribute, sending me falling to the ground.

I freeze up instantly as my mind goes into panic mode. I quickly gain enough control of my frightened mind not to scream. I stand up instantly. I recognise the tribute as the girl from District 8. She's around my age and has light brown hair which hangs in disarray around her shoulders, her expression mirroring what I'm sure my own looks like.

I glance around my surroundings and size her up, looking for any weapons and try to judge if I can beat her if it comes to a physical fight. I can tell that she's doing the same to me, although she's in the better position to run. For me, turning back would mean going straight to the Cornucopia, and ultimately the Careers, to my left is the direction that the boy from District 11 went, and to my right is the lake, which going near would be suicide if I were chased.

"What's your name?" I settle on saying. If I can't run or fight her then a truce is the next best option.

"Kella," she says after a while, her eyes flickering to the patch of woods towards her right, body tensed, ready to run at any moment. "What's yours?"

"Adelina," I reply cautiously. "Listen," I start, trying to sound confident and sure of myself, "We have three choices here, we could ignore that we saw each other and walk off in opposite directions, we could try and kill each other, keeping in mind that I've got a weapon in my pack," I add, hoping that she won't notice that I'm bluffing. I haven't had the chance to look through my pack yet, there _might _be a weapon of some sort, so it's technically not a lie. "Or we could form a truce."

"A truce?" Kella repeats, seeming to prefer this idea over the others.

"Yes, we stick together, share food, weapons... and we don't kill each other," I say, chancing a step forward, extending my hand. "For the time being."

"Sounds good," she replies clasping my hand with her own, "For now, at least." She mimics my own after thoughts.

I readjust the backpack on my shoulders trying to get in a more comfortable position.

"What have you got in there anyway?" Kella asks, narrowing her eyes at the pack.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," I say, and walk straight ahead of me in the direction that she came from.

"There's nothing down there," she calls after me, standing in the same spot.

I turn back to her and smile sweetly, "Well nothing down here is better than what's everywhere else."

She seems to consider stopping for a few seconds, before she follows after me, shaking her head, "Fine, but you need to tell me what's in the pack."

I shake my head in annoyance. To be honest, I'd prefer for her to not know what the contents of the backpack is, to give myself an advantage over her. I compromise with myself and dig in the pack for the smallest object I can grasp.

"Matches," I say, showing her the small packet.

"That's it?" Kella asks in disbelief.

"As I said earlier, that's for me to know and you to find out."

By the time night comes both of us don't doubt the value of the matches. Or at least, Kella doesn't, and I'm stuck with the task of trying to return her to sanity.

"D-Don't do it," I hiss, snatching my pack out of Kella's grasp though I know that she's already found what she was looking for. "W-What do you think you're d-doing? This is the _stupidest _thing w-we could d-do."

"K-Keeping us alive," she whispers back, striking the matches and setting fire to the wood that she's piled, "It's t-too c-cold out here." Her teeth are chattering with the icy wind as I know mine are.

"W-We'll manage, it's _night _Kella! Do you have any idea h-how easily we'll be seen?" I reply, inching closer to the fire that she set.

"No we won't, we'll have to take the chance," Kella replies, the stutter the cold has added to her words are already stopping as the fire heats up both her body and mine.

I sigh in reply, but don't say anything else. I know that this is possibly the stupidest thing that I could do, but I can feel my resolve to keep away from the fire swaying as I near the flames, inching towards the heat the glowing embers bring, glad to be away from the cold night.

We agree to have one of stand watch for the first part of the night while the other sleeps and then switch half way through. I volunteer to stand guard first, taking the time to go over what is in the pack that I picked up at the Cornucopia; a box of matches, a knife, a small amount of food, and a canteen of water. I sit in peaceful silence for a minute or two after I've piled my items back into the bag, though I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched.

It's then that I hear the footsteps.

I stand up instantly, dropping my pack from my hands, the thud it makes stirs Kella and I look at her in alarm. I want to run, sprint as fast as possible, but at the same time I'm reluctant to leave Kella. I take a few steps back as Kella slowly awakes and gets used to her surroundings.

"Get up, we need to leave _now._" I hiss, the sound is barely audible, but I can tell she gets the gist of it as her face quickly turns to fear mirroring my own.

I'm about to help her up when I first see the shady figures of the Careeres. I dive behind a small bush, the closest thing to me, as Kella is left out in the open. Is it bad that even though I know that she's going to die, all I can think about is how thin the bush is and how all the careers would have to do is look and know where I'm hiding?

I throw desperate glance over my shoulder, debating if I'd be able to make a run for it without being noticed. Of course I wouldn't, I'd be too noisy, I'd step on twigs as I ran, I'd hit trees, I'd be slow.

I peer back through the bush to see the tributes from District 1, the girls from District 2 and 4, the boy from District 12, and Cato. I can't help but feel a slight pang of betrayal run through me as the smirk that so often graced his features is turned on Kella, who can't seem to take her eyes off of his razor sharp sword.

The girl from District 2 grins wickedly at Kella, twirling a knife in each hand, and steps forward. Kella's eyes hold pure terror as she stumbles back slightly, "Please," she says as the rest of the careers stalk forward, their eyes resembling a lions that's about to rip apart its prey. "Please don't do this."

I cringe as a loud scream rings out through the night. At first I'm glad that the cannon hasn't gone off immediately after, but the happiness soon turns to horror when the Kella's next scream sounds. I bury my face into my hands as the shrieks of pain come one after the other, each louder than the one before in a never ending stream. Occasionally laughter could be heard over some of Kella's quieter begs for them to stop, but would soon die out with her next louder screeches of anguish.

After what feels like hours (though I assume to be only a few minutes) the shrieks die down to small whimpers. I slowly raise my head from my hands and chance a peak through the leaves and immediately regret doing so. Kella lies on the ground, eyes open and bathed in her own blood. There are multiple cuts on her face and long, thick lines where her skin has been peeled off with the girl's knife. I can't help the small gasp that escapes my mouth, immediately drawing the attention of the one person who I wanted to avoid.

"What is it Cato?" The girl from District 1 asks, following his gaze in my direction. Fortunately it's dark and she can't see exactly where I am, though I'm certain she soon will.

I close my eyes as Cato stalks over to where I hide, waiting for the laugh or yell or strike that will be my doom. Instead he bends down in front of the bush, back to me, obscuring me from the view of the Careers.

"Pack," he says, picking it up and zipping it open, "Could have something useful."

"Is there anything?" The girl from District 4 asks, moving closer to get a look.

Cato shifts once more, blocking my sight of her, and hopefully her sight of me. "No," he says after scanning through the items, "Just a box of matches, probably had some food in it that the dumb bitch was stupid enough to eat on the first night."

I clench my fists in frustration at his mocking of Kella, but stay completely still otherwise.

"You want them?" Cato asks the District 4 girl, throwing her the packet of matches and dropping my pack back on the ground.

"Nah, might as well leave them here. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and someone else will try and light a fire." She says grinning like she's made some brilliant joke.

At this the District 2 girl scoffs, and aside from her interviews, this is the first time that I've heard her speak, "Don't be stupid, this was a one off."

"Besides, a fire would just be too easy. The hunt is the fun part," Cato adds, standing up.

This makes the boy from District 1 grin, "Then let's get onto it."

And slowly the group fade back into the trees, boasting loudly along the way about who made Kella scream the loudest.

I keep in my spot, shaking slightly from fear for a few minutes before I slowly move out from behind the bush, careful not to make any noise, and stumble over to Kella's body. Her eyes are still open though they flutter to a close every ten seconds before she manages to force them back open, her breathing is laboured as she struggles to focus on me.

"Adelina?" she asks.

I nod, horrified by her injuries, "I'm so sorry." I choke out at last.

She manages a small nod that immediately causes her to wince in pain afterwards. "I would've done the same," she says in a weak voice.

I nod in reply; it seems to be all that I'm able to do. I'm at loss for what do. Should I reassure her? Try and help her? Kill her to end her pain? Or should I just leave her hear, like she probably would've done for me?

When I hear the sound of footsteps approaching my answer is made for me.

"Go," she mouths when she registers the faint thudding on the ground and the alarmed expression on my face.

"Goodbye," I say softly before hurrying away into the dark night, stopping only to pick up the pack and spare a quick glance at the thin bush which I hid behind earlier. I'm amazed at how little it hid, I was lucky that it was out of the direct light of the fire or I would've been dead. I give an involuntary shudder at the thought of the fate that I could've been dealt.

I'm far away from our original camp by the time the cannon goes off announcing Kella's death. She's the first death that has had some effect on me, her being one of the few people that I talked to, yet no tears are shed for her. Yes, there's some sorrow for her, but not enough to bring a real onslaught of emotion.

Yes, Kella was the first death that I mourned, but that's just the Hunger Games. And really the best I can do is hope that the next cannon to go off isn't for me.

* * *

><p><strong>Do I even need to say it?<strong>

**Review please.**

**And vote on the poll I mentioned earlier.**


	7. Rue

**Me: Hi everybody**

**Randoms in background: Hi Dr. Nick**

**So, I updated, YAY! *Celebratory music plays in background***

**Unfortunately this chapter is significantly shorter to the rest of them. It was originally going to be longer, and have Katniss in it, but I got impatient and updated it before it was finished. So that means that the next chapter is going to be equally short... hopefully not shorter than this one...**

**But on the plus side, as you can probably tell from the title of the chapter, IT HAS RUE IN IT!**

**So hopefully that makes up for any shortness.**

**Anyhow, a big, big, BIG thankyou to everyone who reviewed and alerted the last chapter, you guys rock!**

**And are now officially Officially Awesome. Yes, be honoured.**

**I saw the Hunger Games last night, and it gave me an idea for how to end the story IF there's going to be a sequel. Which there might be since most people who voted on the poll said they wanted one.**

**BUT I could always change y mind about that and have a comet crash into Earth and kill everyone halfway through the book.**

**So if you haven't already voted in it, **_**do it now **_**(after reading the chapter of course, no don't leave **_**right**_** now!). Because I **_**will **_**give it a sucky ending if I want, because I'm the author of this FANfiction, which means that, no, I didn't write the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins did.**

**NOW READ!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 - Rue<strong>

I getting to sleep is surprisingly easy. After finding a small patch of grass by the lake, sheltered by trees and my jacket wrapped tightly around me, I'm already dozing off, despite the earlier horrors of the day.

But I can't escape them in my dreams.

_The cold, bitter wind that slams against me is horrible, like I'm trapped in an arctic storm. I try to move through it but my feet are frozen to the ground, as if they're being held prisoner in a block of ice. And with the temperature, who knows, it's highly possible that one could've formed around them._

_And then Kella appears. Eyes unseeing, hair drenched in her own blood with a terribly scarred and brutally injured body, she's exactly as she was when I left her._

_At first she seems to be sad. She's mouthing something to me, her expression makes it appear like she's screaming, trying desperately to be heard, but the only sounds that come out are breathless moans of pain. It takes me a while before I figure out how to read her lips._

'_Save me, please, help.'_

_I try, I really do. I'm leaning forward, trying to move my feet so I can get to her as my arms that are so desperately reaching for the sleeves of her jacket but only grasp thin air._

_Kella's face becomes more and more desperate as her own hands reach forward, searching desperately for my own before a horrid red liquid begins pouring from her mouth. Her face becomes even more panicked until we finally manage to get a loose grip on each others hand before she starts speaking again. But something's wrong this time, her face changes from a look of scared desperation to one of anger and her grip on my hand tightens painfully. The blood still pouring from her mouth in an endless stream distorts her voice and my view of her lips, but I still get the message she's sending._

_She blames me._

I wake panting for breath, hot from being wrapped in my jacket. I take off the piece of clothing and place it in my backpack, wiping my brow clear of the sweat that has started to form on it from the heat of the day, a shocking difference from the cool temperatures of the night. I'm squinting around for signs of other tributes, realising that from the brightness of the sun that I must've slept far longer than I should have.

I blame my sleep addled mind for taking so long to realise what's happening around me. But I certainly realise when one of the branches above me begins to burn.

_Fire._

I scramble up, swinging my backpack over one shoulder and run as fast as I can, desperately trying to outrun the flames.

It only takes a few minutes of this before I'm out of breath and ready to collapse. The desire to cease my dead sprint for breath is overwhelming but I manage to ignore the burning in my lungs in order to escape the dastardly inferno that's chasing me and forcing me into the direction of danger. Of more _entertainment._

_Crash._

Evidently running isn't enough as the Gamemakers throw fireballs into the mix. The great balls of flame aiming for me, keeping me moving, each time crashing into the spot where that I've inhabited seconds ago.

The fire is at my back now, taking off my jacket earlier seemed like a smart idea, but now I regret leaving my arms unprotected from the flames almost upon me, small tendrils of which are licking at my skin and sending spikes of pain through them and my already burning legs, desperate for a break.

I see little use in continuing my desperate flight, the fire's already too close and escaping it will only force me to other tributes, equalling an even more painful death.

But as I slow down, so does the fire. Moving away from me and burning down to a small spark before nothing of it is left. I want to stop, to collapse against the ground and give myself time regain my energy, but that's the stupidest thing to do.

If the Gamemakers chased me all the way here, then that's obviously where they sent other tributes, so the best thing for me to do is to get as far away from here as possible... After a minute or two.

I drop the backpack from my shoulder and fall down to the ground, legs stretched out in front of me as I study the burns I've received.

They aren't too bad. Most of the damage has been done to the back of my legs and arms where the fire has lashed out at them, the backs of my ankles are the worst, red raw and screaming for attention from the pain they're in. My arms are a few patches of red kin from where my arms have been burnt as well, though they're not as bad as my ankles which, now that I've been given the time to pay attention to, are making sitting even impossible.

It takes great strength, both physical and mental, to force myself back to my feet continue to move; strength that I don't have. I know that I have to get away soon, find something to soothe the burns, but every muscle inside of me aches, and when I rest my head against the pack and use it as a pillow, the temptation to stay is too much.

That's when I hear the noise. It starts with the small crackling of leaves that remind me so very much of when the Careers attacked Kella and I, and I sit up instantly, pulling my knife out of my pack so that I have something to defend myself with.

The tribute in question is thankfully not one of the bulking and more powerful tributes from a Career district, but a small twelve year old with dark skin and a small figure.

The small tribute backs away when I pick up the knife, disappearing into the trees. At this I drop the weapon and immediately return to nursing my burns. I experimentally prod the wounded skin on my arm, wincing at the sharp pain that it sparks.

I shift slightly, so that my legs are in front of me, carefully bent so that the worst of my painful injury isn't being pushed against the ground. I look through my bag once more, hoping that there might be some medicine that I missed when I last looked through it. There's none of course. And hoping for any sponsors is out. Zen and Zara's costumes couldn't compare to some of the other tributes and my performance in the interviews wasn't nearly enough to draw any interest in me whatsoever. As far as the audience in the Capitol are concerned, my dying from the fire will only make the games more interesting.

Deciding that it's best to keep moving, I slowly lift myself up from the ground, wincing with each step before I fall back down to the ground, stopped by the pain that runs through my legs, so crippling that I almost miss the figure of the young tribute from earlier. I don't bother with picking up the knife, I recognise her from training and while I'm sure that she's able to defend herself, she wouldn't come up against me straight away in a physical fight. Because even injured, I'd stand the better chance of winning.

She's cautious as she approaches me, her eyes flickering to the knife like she's afraid that I'll make a sudden move for it, and from her posture I can tell that she's ready to run at the slightest move from me.

"Hi," I croak out, my voice is raspy from dehydration and I give the girl a small smile.

"Hi," she replies, eyes still guarded, but she walks closer to me, staying to the edge of the trees so she can disappear easily. Her eyes once again flicker to the knife and I slowly reach over to pick it up.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I tell her as I flick the knife away from me. Not the smartest move for later on if another tribute appears, but I don't lean towards it or make any other movements to indicate my disinterest in the weapon.

This seems to help as the walks closer to me, "Those are nasty burns," she says, nodding to my ankles.

"Yeah, were you in the fire?" I ask, noting her more calm appearance.

She shakes her head, "Not really, I saw it in the distance and ran before it got to me. I wasn't very far from here." She stops for a moment, a metre away from me before she nods her head as if making a decision, "I'm Rue."

I smile at her, "My name's Ada."

"I know," she says and in reply to my confused look she adds, "I remember it from your reaping and interview."

"Oh," I say, slightly embarrassed that I didn't pay as much attention to the other reapings as she did.

"I can help you with that," Rue says, breaking the silence as she indicates to the burns.

"Could you?" I ask, trying to prop myself up, wincing slightly from the pain.

"Here," Rue finishes the final bound between us and lifts my arm over her shoulder in a feeble attempt to lift me up.

I almost laugh at her determination, despite that I'm probably twice her size and place my arm on a tree close to me and use that to drag myself up from the ground before leaning against it for support.

"This way," Rue says, leading me through the patches of trees to a small creek. She rolls up the legs of her trousers slightly before stepping in and relishing the momentary relaxation, before beckoning me to follow her.

I lean down to roll up my own pants before stopping and deciding to get them wet so that I can use them as a damp cloth for my ankles when I'm walking. I resist the urge to scramble out of the water when I put my first put in, wincing at the pain that rushes through my ankle, and place my other foot in.

It take me a while to get used to the bitter sting the water causes as it swirls into the burn, but once I do, I'm grateful for the short relief the cool of water provides. It doesn't last though, I'm there for barely two minutes before both Rue and I decide that I've had enough relaxation time.

"We need to get moving," Rue says, glancing out nervously into the trees.

I nod my head in agreement as I lift myself up from the small patch of water, tuck my pants into my shoes so that the part that's wet is compressing against the burns on my feet.

After a few minutes of walking Rue stops and looks up, "Can you climb?" she asks before clarifying, "Trees."

I give her a small shrug, "I don't know, I've never tried."

Rue nods, "It's easy, just do what I do."

She places a hand on one of the branches of a tall, thick tree in front of her and uses it to pull herself up, repeating it again and again before stopping and motioning for me to follow. I try to repeat her actions, heaving myself up slowly, using my arms and careful not to hurt my ankles even more. Rue climbs up an extra branch with each one I take, stopping only near the top of the tree, the branches she's sitting on dangerously thin. After a while of ungraceful climbing and hurried tests to see if the branches can hold my weight, I manage to reach a branch just below Rue's own, not daring to go any further knowing that a branch only slightly weaker will snap under my weight.

"Good," she says, "Now follow me." Carefully she reaches out to a tree next to her and jumps over to it, making it look as easy as walking. My own attempt at this is not so well done, I'm sluggish in my movements and certainly slowing Rue down. The speed and grace which she dances through the trees with is astonishing, like watching a bird flit from branch to branch.

"I'm sorry," I apologise, "I'm not very fast."

"It's okay," Rue says, "They haven't thought to look up yet, and you don't make too much noise that will draw attention to yourse–" She stops midway through her sentence, a look of dread filling her face.

I look down, curious as to what has caused such a worry. What have the Gamemakers thrown us this time? Maybe a group of lions waiting to pounce? Or perhaps the Careers are down below us, beaming up at us in the humorous situation that we were just saying that they'd never find us.

I'm half right. Below us there's the Careers, looking up into the trees with annoyance. Though they aren't looking at us. Instead their attention is devoted to another tribute, the girl with the insane stylists who set her on fire, hiding in the treetops, she doesn't see Rue or I either. Good.

I back away slightly, moving backwards, extremely careful not to make any noise. I pull at Rue's arm, signalling to her that we're leaving but she shakes her head and pulls her arm out of my grasp.

"Look," Rue points down to the ground where the Careers are and then back up to the girl from District 12.

"Yes, I see them, that's why we're trying to get away." I tell her, confused as to why she's pointing out the obvious.

"No," Rue repeats, her voice slightly more urgent, "_Look._"

I follow her gaze to Katniss once more, but this time I see what's got Rue so worried.

"Tracker Jackers," I whisper, gazing at the wasps nest in fear. I've never seen one in real life before, not that I've ever wanted to, but I recognise them from pictures. "Now we _really _need to move."

"But what about her?" Rue asks, stopping me from moving backwards.

"District 12? What about her?" I ask, confused as to why she's worried about the girl.

"Well, we should tell her, I mean, it'd be horrible if she never found out and they got her." Rue states, looking at me incredulously, as if stating the obvious.

I bite back the reply to say that the Tracker jackers getting her would probably be the best for us.

Rue continues before I even have the chance to reply. "It's the right thing to do, she's one of the nice ones, just like you and me."

_There are no nice ones in this game. Only those who don't immediately try to kill you and those who don't bother with the facade._

"You saw the reapings," Rue carries on, "She volunteered in the place of her sister, not many people care enough to do that."

Rue doesn't say it, but I can tell that the young ally is thinking the same as I am.

_Like no one cared enough for us to do._

And so I nod and say, "But we can't stick around for too long."

* * *

><p><strong>Sooooooo? What do you think?<strong>

**Feel free to tell me in a review... if you want to...**

**And if you don't want to tell me in a review... Review anyway, because I like getting them.**

**Speaking of, let's see if we can get to 40 reviews, okay?**

**Like, Siriusly (I couldn't resist) guys, it's pretty much nine reviews.**

**That's my way of saying 'REVIEW! OR ELSE!'**

**Oh yeah, and vote on the poll.**

**So, review and vote, hopefully you haven't forgotten that already. I do ask for them **_**every **_**chapter.**


	8. Explosions

**HOLY CROW! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME! 74 REVIEWS! YOU ARE AMAZING! AND I DON'T HAVE A THESAURUS NEXT TO ME SO I'M RUNNING OUT OF ADJECTIVES! AND THE CAPS AND EXCLAMATION MARKS ARE ANNOYING ME, BUT I'LL USE THEM ANYWAY! JUST SAVE ME THE TROUBLE AND LOOK UP 'EPIC' IN A THESAURUS, THEN WRITE DOWN THE WORDS THAT COME UP IN CAPITALS!**

**Okay, really, I didn't expect to get this many reviews. I'm... for lack of a better (and less fun) word, flabbergasted.**

**Thankyou to everyone who's voted in the poll. I'm getting the rough idea that there's going to be a sequel... which of course mean that I have to read Catching Fire... Did I mention that I haven't read that yet? No? Oh well, now you now.**

**This chapter's far longer than the last one. Actually, it's the longest. YAY! Or not, depends on your views on long chapters.**

**So, umm, what else do I put in these pointless authors notes... Oh yeah. I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8 - Explosions <strong>

"Did you tell her?" I ask as soon as Rue reappears from her spot in the trees.

She gives me a shaky nod before leaping forward to the tree I'm on. "We better run," she says, and I can see the slight fear in her eyes. "She'll be making her move soon."

I pause, "I thought we were just telling her about them."

Rue shrugs. "I just gave her a helpful hint on what she could do..." she trails off.

"You're right," I say, "Running is a good idea."

I jump from tree to tree taking more risky moves that could most likely end with the branch snapping or me missing the tree I'm aiming for completely. When I get a safe distance away from the other tributes, I scurry down from my tree and presume on foot. I may be sick and tired of running, but it's a lot faster than climbing. Rue pauses for a moment, debating whether or not to join me on the ground before continuing to fly from tree to tree, as if it's the easier option.

The sound of a cannon stops us. I double over, gasping for breath and Rue slides down the tree next to me. It really isn't the best tactic to stop. The cannon could be for either District 12 or the one of the Careers, who will be very unhappy either way. Another cannon follows soon after, the boom pushing us back to the real world.

"Do you think that they'll be coming for us?" Rue asks, looking around nervously.

"No," I answer calmly though I shift my backpack around so that it's easier for me to pull out my knife… which I conveniently haven't used for anything yet. "Two cannons went off, remember? That means that at least one of them is dead. And if that's true then District 12 managed to drop the tracker jacker nest on them. They'll still be recovering."

Most likely. There's always the possibility that the first cannon was for Katniss and the second for another tribute who died of starvation or was killed by another tribute. Mikail, the boys from District 10 and 11, it could be one of them in a hovercraft.

Rue calms visibly at this. "Oh, okay then… Do you have any food?" she asks tentatively. "I mean, I've got some of my own, but it's not much."

I pull out a small packet of crackers. "This is all I have left," I say apologetically.

Rue nods, "We might be able to find some more."

"Where?" I ask in confusion, glancing around as if I'm going to find a tree that sprouts gourmet meals.

"Around," Rue says, walking over to a bush, "I've seen some around before, but I've never had enough time to get them."

"Alright then," I say as she picks up a handful of small berries. Rue places one in her mouth before offering out her palm to me. I take one gladly. "It's good." I say as Rue bends over to pick up more.

"Can I put them in your pack?" she asks as a couple of the berries fall from her arms.

"Sure," I say, holding open my pack as she pours them into the pack. "So what else is there?"

So we go on. Rue pointing out everything edible and poisonous, and me struggling to remember everything. After an hour or so of this we stumble upon a body on the ground. I pull back Rue in an instant as we observe the familiar girl. The small movements of her chest alert us of her alive status, but she's covered in large stings from what I assume to be tracker jackers, that she could pass for dead.

"That's Katniss," Rue whispers, as if afraid she'll wake the unconscious girl.

"Should we leave, or steal her pack, or…" I trail off at Rue's disapproving look. "Just kidding."

"Look at her mockingjay pin," Rue says, "I see them all the time at home. They're my friends."

"That's nice," I say as I watch the girl warily, expecting her to make a sudden movement.

As if on cure she rolls over and lets out a loud scream, batting at invisible creatures with her hands. She rolls into a fetal position, protecting her head with her hands as she screams again.

I look around for any other tributes, hoping that they haven't heard her and are hurrying to finish her off. "We should leave," I tell Rue.

"But we can't just leave her here!" Rue says, taking a small step forward. I open my mouth to argue with her, but stop seeing the determined expression on her face.

"Listen, if she's like this then it's likely that the other Careers will be the same, maybe even worse presuming that the tracker jackers fell on _them. _I doubt anyone else is going to be hunting for tributes. She'll be fine."

Rue opens her mouth to protest so I cut her off once more, "We'll keep watch on her and find something to help her when she wakes up."

Rue pauses for a moment before she nods and moves away from the girl. "Then we better get started."

* * *

><p>"These leaves," Rue says as she holds out a couple of green leaves, "They're good for tracker jacker stings." She picks off one before placing it in my bag. "I'm going to check on Katniss," she says.<p>

"Alright, I'll meet you there," I reply.

It's become something of a routine for us over the past few days. We go out and find food, see how District 12 is fairing with the hallucinations, find more food, check on the girl, set up a camp near the District 12 girl. On the odd occasion Rue leaves me to find more food and supplies while she returns to the girl, afraid that she'll wake up, until I return to collect her.

I pick up another handful of leaves before I go out searching for the edible roots and plants that I know aren't certain. The amount of them is limited, and I'm certain Rue's catching on that I'm useless when it comes to food, but she doesn't mention the lack of variety once.

I decide to call it a day with the food collecting when the sky slowly darkens. As I'm on my way to Katniss' resting place, the smell of roasting bird coming from a small patch of trees.

Run. That's what I should do. This clearly means that a tribute is there and I don't need to run into anyone else. But the smell of meat is too tempting to pass up. And so, against my better judgement, I walk towards it.

I enter to find Rue sitting next to the girl from District 12, placing the leaf on stings made by tracker jackers by a small fire with a bird hung over it. Obviously Rue's not in any trouble from her, but I pull out my knife regardless. At the sight of me the girl scrambles to pick up her bow but is stopped by Rue's hand.

"It's okay," Rue says, placing down the leaf in her hand as she's about to chew it, "She's with me." The girl lowers her weapon though a look of mistrust is still in her eyes and her hand lies on the ground only centimetres from the bow. "Ada, this is Katniss," Rue introduces me to the girl. "Katniss, this is Ada."

"Hello," I say formally.

"Hello," she repeats an equally strict tone in her voice.

"Here you go Rue," my tone softens considerably when I talk to the young District 11 girl, "Have I gotten enough?" I hand her the handful of leaves that I've collected.

"More than enough," Rue beams, obviously trying to ease the tension as she grabs the leaves.

I walk over to the fire that's been set and sit down next to Rue as Katniss lets out a moan of relief when more of the leaves are added causing Rue to giggle and the corner of my mouth to twitch up in amusement.

"Lucky you had the sense to pull the stingers out or you'd be a lot worse," Rue says.

"Do my neck! Do my cheek!" Katniss replies, eager for more.

This continues for a while until Katniss notices a long burn on Rue's arm that I hadn't noticed until earlier. "I've got something for that," Katniss says, pulling out a small tub from her backpack and taking out a small blob of cream and rubbing it over the Rue's burn.

"You have good sponsors," Rue says and I watch with slight jealousy that people care enough to get her lifesaving medicine but none for me.

"Have you got anything yet?" Katniss asks, looking at Rue before her gaze slides over to me as an afterthought to add me into the conversation.

"No," I reply as Rue shakes her head.

"You will, though. Watch. The closer we get to the end, the more people will realise how clever you are," Katniss replies, trying to give Rue an encouraging smile as she turns the piece of meat hanging over the flame.

"You weren't joking about wanting me for an ally?" Rue asks tentatively.

"No, I meant it."

"And Ada?" Rue asks, "She can be in our alliance too, right?"

Katniss looks over to me once more, as if trying to determine if I'm going to try and kill her in her sleep before giving Rue a nod, "Of course." She says, looking over to me, "That's alright with you."

I nod in reply.

"Okay then," Rue shakes hands with Katniss, "It's a deal."

"Here, you want these?" I ask Katniss, handing over the roots that Rue and I collected.

"Thanks," she nods, placing over the fire next to the bird.

It's silent for a moment aside from the crackling of the fire before Katniss picks up the small tube of medicine. "Do you need any?" she asks, offering the tub to me and I take it gratefully.

"Thankyou," I say as I rub the cream over the burns on my ankles, marvelling at how the pain disappears.

Katniss gives me a small smile in response.

"Is this a groosling?" Rue asks Katniss as it's taken off the fire and divided into three parts for each of us.

"I don't know," Katniss replies, tearing off one of the wings, "I'm not sure what a groosling is."

"I think it is one," Rue says as she takes a bite out of the groosling's leg, "Every once in a while a flock will wander into the orchard." She says as some grease of the meat drips down her chin and she wipes it away, "We get a good lunch on those days."

After this silence once again surrounds us, this one not as uncomfortable as the last, filled with the sloppy noises of us eating as we haven't for days. Which we haven't in a way. I've been surviving off the small amount of food in my backpack and Rue off small plants she's been able to scavenge.

"Oh," Rue says as she strips her leg of all meat, "I've never had a whole leg to myself."

"Take the other," Katniss offers her.

"Really?"

"Take whatever you want. Now that I've got a bow and arrows, I can get more. Plus I've got snares," at this Katniss looks to me, "I can show you how to set them." The idea brings a small smile to my face. It'd be nice to not be the person who has no idea about food and having to rely on Rue and Katniss. "Oh take it," Katniss' attention is turned back to Rue who is looking doubtfully at the groosling leg, "It will only keep a few days anyway, and we've got the whole bird plus the rabbit. I'd have thought, in District 11, you'd have but more to eat than us. You know, since you grow the food."

Both Rue and I look at Katniss in surprise, "Oh no, we're not allowed to eat the crops."

"They arrest you or something?" Katniss asks.

"Would they do anything else?" I add my input. I'm confused as to why she'd think otherwise. We didn't grow food back at District 3, but that didn't mean rules were any less strict.

"They whip you and make everyone watch," Rue answers Katniss' question, "The mayor's very strict about it. Do you get all the coal you want?"

"No, just what we buy and whatever we track in on our boots."

"They feed us a bit extra during harvest, so that people can keep going longer."

"Don't you have to be in school?" I ask.

"Not during harvest. Everyone works then. Isn't it the same for you?" Rue asks me.

"In our district we go to school as early as possible, learn how to work in the factories, how to work the technologies, and are sent to our jobs and start making whatever the factory is for." I explain, "There are a few people who are lucky enough to get a job outside of the factories. The ones who sell food or trade often get to get outside every once in a while. Not me though, my family doesn't work in town. If I wasn't reaped for the Hunger Games I would've been carted straight off to one of the factories close to where I lived, and spent my life combining wires together until I was so old and weak that I couldn't even pick one up."

Rue nods, "Roughly what happens with us."

"So what do you have in your backpack?" Katniss asks me.

"A small amount of food, a knife, some matches and a water canteen. What about you?"

"How about we just roll it all out?" Rue suggests which we do.

In the end we have the various plants and seeds that Rue and I collected earlier, a small waterskin, slingshot and pair of extra socks from Rue, the items from my pack and from Katniss' pack: Small provisions of food, a water bottle, a coil of wire, a bottle of iodine, a pair of sunglasses that allow you to see in the dark, and a sleeping bag, which she offers to let Rue sleep in. Katniss does offer to try and squeeze me into the small material, but I decline.

"Here, you can take these," Rue hands me her socks and her jacket, "Will that keep you warm enough?"

I debate giving them back to her, knowing that they're to keep _her _warm, but realise that she'll be warm enough sleeping next to Katniss. So I accept them and say, "Thankyou."

We lie in a tall tree, Rue and Katniss on one branch and I on another. It's not long before Rue falls into a deep sleep but I know that she's the only one.

"You still awake?" I ask, not bothering to turn from where I lean on the branch.

"Yes," Katniss replies, "And obviously you are."

"How's Rue?" I ask.

"She's fine, why would you think otherwise?" Katniss' tone is offended.

"Just checking District 12," I say. "She's got this _feeling _that you're nice."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I've very little doubt that if Rue weren't sleeping on her and we weren't in a life or death situation she'd be shouting.

"It means that she likes you. But I don't. I like her, District 12, and for some weird reason she trusts you. So if anything happens to her, I'm holding you accountable."

"Likewise," Katniss says, I can imagine the scowl on her face, "You should be thankful. If it weren't for her you'd be dead by now."

It's an empty threat, but I don't doubt that she could.

"And that's why I'm putting up with you. For her," I clarify.

"For Rue," Katniss agrees.

We don't speak after that... but if I'm not mistaken, I _think _we just made a truce.

* * *

><p>I awake to the sound of a cannon going off. I sit up instantly, almost falling off the tree in the process as I turn to see Rue and Katniss engaging in a small conversation.<p>

"Who's left again?" Katniss asks.

"The boy from District One, both from Two, the boy from Three and Ada, Thresh and me, and you and Peeta. Wait, and the boy from Ten, the one with the bad leg." Rue replies. "I wonder how that last one died..."

I tune out of the rest of their conversation, and close my eyes trying to sleep. It almost works, but just as I'm about to drift off, Rue appears in front of my face.

"Come on," she says, her voice bubbling with excitement, "We're doing it today."

"Doing what?" I ask, smiling at her bubbly attitude.

She leans in to whisper in my ear, as though the people we're taking the plan out on are next to us, "We're blowing up the Careers food."

"I suppose I'd better get up then."

Rue gives me an egg for my breakfast, seeing as she and Katniss already ate as we hunt for food. Once again I tune out of Katniss and Rue's conversation, instead focusing on plants that are edible until something Rue says catches my attention.

"- And the boy from District 3 always keeps watch–" Rue is saying.

"Mikail's with them?" I ask, my head swivelling around to her.

"Yes, he stays at the camp full time. He got stung too, when they drew the tracker jackers in by the lake," Rue says.

"What weapons does he have?" Both Katniss and I ask this at the same time. While Katniss says this for information, I ask out of concern for my fellow District member. While he's certainly done something in order to gain the Careers favour, when they suddenly change their minds about letting him live, he'll be in trouble.

"Not much that I could see. A spear. He might be able to hold a few of us off with that, but Thresh could kill him easily," Rue says shrugging her shoulders before registering my alarmed expression and adding hastily, "But he won't be fighting Thresh any time soon."

I only listen to the end of their conversation when they actually come up with a plan to blow up the food and how to communicate with each other.

"So you'll be fine with lighting the fires?" I ask Rue for the billionth time. "Because if you're not I can come with you."

"I'll be fine," Rue laughs though it comes out jittery and fake, "You need to be with Katniss. You'll understand what Mikail's done to get in with the Careers."

"Okay," I say, taking a deep breath, "You just... Be careful."

Rue runs into me, wrapping me in a tight hug. "You too," she mumbles into my shoulder as I hold her close to me, "We'll be okay, right?"

"Of course," I try to smile and I'm thankful that she can't see the doubt on my face, "What else would happen?"

Rue pulls apart from me, turning to say her goodbyes to Katniss before leaving in the opposite direction to us.

"She really likes you," Katniss notes as we walk to the Careers camp.

"Yeah, well, she likes you too," I say.

"I know," she replies, "I like her. She reminds me of my sister."

I give her a sympathetic look. "You volunteered for her."

She nods, her eyes getting that faraway look that I've noticed most tributes get when talking about home. "I had to. She's only twelve. I had a better chance than her."

A feeling of approval rises in me. "Not many people care enough to do that."

"I know."

We don't speak for the rest of the walk, though it's not as uncomfortable as before. Neither of us are plotting how to make our escape or retaliate of the other attacks, for one. My initial dislike for Katniss has reduced considerably, and perhaps she knows that she's earned my respect.

The Careers food is piled into a large pyramid in a clearing where the rest of the Careers – Plus Mikail. Minus the boy from Twelve. – talking about something. Until one of them points out a spiral of smoke emerging from the trees in the distance. Rue's first fire.

A small argument starts about what to do with Mikail, until Cato decides to bring him. Ultimately Cato's top dog around here. I'm not surprised.

"Right, so how do we get rid of the food?" I ask Katniss.

"I don't know. Obviously we can't just waltz in there and take it. It can't be that simple," she replies, eyeing the food with distrust.

She's proved right when the girl from District 5 waltzes out from the trees, skipping around the ground, as if avoiding certain patches of earth as she reaches their food and grabs a small handful before skirting back in her original path.

"Why's she walking like that?" I ask myself before my eyes widen in surprise and I answer my own question. "It's mined," I breathe, feeling a slow smile tug at my face, "That dirty rat, I didn't know he had it in him."

Katniss sees this to be more of a hindrance than sharing my pride for my fellow district member. "Can you turn them off?"

I shrug, "Yes, but it'll take more time than we have: First I'd need to find where to do it from, then I'd have to figure out which cables to switch, all without blowing us sky high and avoiding the Careers."

"What about just turning on more bombs?"

I nod, "Relatively easier, but we'd be pressed for time. I'm assuming that the wires are somewhere in the middle so first I'd have to make my way over there and then in order to get back I'd have to remember where I put the bombs. Basically it's a suicide mission, and not that this isn't a great plan of yours Katniss, I'm not quite in the mood to die just yet."

She nods, "Right... then we could..." Katniss pauses, her eyes surveying the field before they widen with her new idea, "Or we could blow them up."

"Suicide mission," I remind her.

"No," she points to a bag of apples, "If I can shoot at the bag and get it to spill..."

"Then it'll set off the bombs with us at a safe distance." I nod, seeing her plan. "Will you be able to hit it?"

Katniss nods, a determined look growing on her face as she nocks the arrow and lifts up the bow, taking careful aim. I scuttle backwards, covering my ears, ready for the blast.

_BOOM_

Despite already distancing myself, I'm still thrown backwards from the force of the explosion, my ears ringing from the loud sound that must be echoing through the arena, alerting all the tributes our attack. At least Rue knows that we've been successful, unfortunately, so do the Careers, Mikail and the girl from District 5. The boys from District 10 and 11 will most likely be moving about, expecting this to be some kind of trap set up by the Gamemakers to force them into facing off against other tributes.

I scramble backwards into the bushes, dragging a dazed Katniss with me. We manage to get to the safety of the bushes just as Cato, Mikail and the other two Careers come running out from the trees, a look of bewilderment on each of their faces. Until they realise what's just happened.

Now I know what the word 'Furious' means.

Mikail picks up a couple of stones and throws them at the space where the mines once were to check that they've all gone off.

This draws the attention of the Careers. At first their eyes hold a mixture of confusion, as if they've forgotten that he was with them, before it slowly turns to accusation and rage.

"I thought they were supposed to keep our food safe!" Cato rounds on him taking an intimidating step towards Mikail.

A surge of pity runs through me as Mikail stutters on his words, paralysed with fear. "I-I didn't know they would do that," he says, taking a small step back with each Cato takes towards him, hands held up in surrender, "Th-They shouldn't have gone off without someone activating them."

"You better run, District 3," Cato snarls as he watches with twisted amusement as Mikail stumbles away from him breaking out into a desperate sprint before Cato bounds after him, holding him in a headlock with in seconds. One of Cato's hands moves to Mikail's neck, the other holding it in place...

No... He wouldn't... he couldn't...

_SNAP_

Evidently he can.

The sound of crunching bone is as sickening as the sight of it.

Luckily I have the sense to cover my mouth in time to stop the strangled scream that is emerging from my throat as cannon goes off announcing Mikail's death. Thanfully the boom manages to cover the barely audible sob I give before Katniss covers my mouth with one of her own hands.

The look she gives me is a sympathetic one, but the warning in it is clear: _Be quiet._

Slowly and quietly Katniss pulls me further into the trees keeping a death grip on my arm, as if she's worried that I'll charge into the Careers camp in a fit of rage. When we're far enough that she's certain we won't be seen she stands up, pulling me with her and breaks into a run, her firm hold on me never ceasing as she moves further and further away from Mikail's body.

Katniss whistles a soft melodious tune and waits for it to be relayed by the mockingjays before turning to me. "Are you okay?" she asks.

I don't answer for a while. I'm aware of the tears on my face and the sound of my shuddering breaths, but I'm incapable of feeling anything past that. Am I okay? Why wouldn't I be? I don't have any real reason to be sad, it's not like I've known Mikail for very long.

Or Cato for that matter. I've only known the tribute from District 2 long enough to know that he's both capable and willing to kill in this game. I shouldn't feel surprised. Or hurt. Or betrayed.

But I should be angry. I should be running him through with his own damn sword. I should be running back to his camp and pushing him onto the rest of those stupid bombs. I should be aiming one of those bloody spears at him. I should find a way to snap his neck like he did Mikail's. I should be trying to kill him. I should hate him.

And I do. I really truly do hate him.

And I'll kill him. I really will.

But before I get the chance to shake myself free of Katniss' grip, she's already moving, whistling the tune again, waiting for a reply. The memory of our way of communicating with Rue manages to shake me out of the red haze that has enveloped my mind, and I join Katniss in sending the message through the mockingjays. Panic begins to overwhelm me as the only song sung by the mockingjays is our own one and I desperately pray for a reply.

And I get one.

"ADA! KATNISS! HELP!"

* * *

><p><strong>DUN DUN DUN! I'd say 'Oooh, what's gonna happen next?' But you kind of know... :'(<strong>

**So because you're all such amazing reviewers, I was wondering if maybe after this chapter, I could hit... dare I say it... 100 hundred reviews?**

**Yes? No? Yes Dear Author, Whatever you say?**

**But PLEASE do it!**

**Oh and vote on the poll... I still check that every now and then.**


	9. Don't Die

**Once again, YOU REVIEWERS ARE AWESOME! I'M UP TO 121 REVIEWS!**

**Okay, so this chapter's **_**REALLY **_**short. But it is Rue's death and I wanted to focus on that this chapter. Don't worry the next will be longer. And this will be the last chapter that's short! YAY!**

**And for those of you who want more Cato/Ada moments, don't worry his in the next chapter... and the chapter after that... and the one after that... And pretty much the rest of the story.**

**Any way, it's holidays now so I should be able to update more quickly. But the last week of school was terrible. I had a test on algebra in maths (Speaking of, if the letters are supposed to represent **_**any **_**number, does that mean that I can just write '**_**x' **_**for all my answers?), I had to write an essay for English, I had a science test on the periodic table (Gah!).**

**And then one of my friends was forcing me to watch Doctor Who (Bloody Weeping Angels!). And then I saw the Hunger Games for the third time (slightly obsessed, aren't I?). And then I decided to actually sit down and write this chapter (which I was reluctant to do. POOR RUE!) And then I wrote this very long authors note, depicting pretty much everything I did in my week that you really couldn't care less about.**

**Anyway, onto the chapter. I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Katniss and I are running barely a second after the scream sounds. My muscles ache from all the running that I've done over the past few days but my pace never slows, if anything I push myself to move faster and faster. Katniss has already nocked the arrow on her bow, ready to fire at a moments notice.

"ADA!" Rue's voice calls out once more, sounding even more desperate, "Please, HELP!" We speed up even more and I'm certain that this is the fastest I've ever run before. "KATNISS!" Rue calls out, the panic that fills her voice, slowly seeping into my mind.

_Stay calm, it's the best you can do. Just. Stay. Calm._

"RUE!" Katniss yells out, her voice as frantic as Rue's own, "Rue we're coming!"

_There, see, now she knows that help is on the way... and now so does whatever's causing the danger..._

_Think positive! They'll realise that we're coming and will leave Rue alone. It's not worth the risk. Rue will be safe. Scared, but safe. Completely fine. Not a scratch on her. We'll all be fine._

I don't believe it, but I keep on repeating this to myself either way. I can't help the terror that grows in me with each step I take seemingly not bringing me any closer to Rue. I push myself faster and faster. Faster than when I ran from the Cornucopia. Faster than when I was being chased by the fire. Faster for Rue.

My legs are burning my lungs are begging for a rest to get some more air, but I ignore the pain in both, the urgency of the situation over powering both.

But when we finally locate Rue trapped in a net, screaming our names, I realise stopping wouldn't have mattered, because we find Rue to late.

The boy from District 1 gives us a viscous, victorious smile as he plunges his spear into Rue's body. The smile is wiped off his face the next second when Katniss sends an arrow into his neck.

I pay no attention to the District 1 boy after that as I run over to Rue and cut the rope trapping her with my knife. I pull her from the cut up pieces of rope ad rest her on my legs so that she's leaning against my chest. Katniss joins us barely a second later, her gaze frantic as she looks at the spear still implanted in Rue's chest before it deflates to a mixture of sadness and hopelessness.

_Why is she doing that? Surely there's some way to save her? Rue's not going to die. She can't die! For crying out loud she's only TWELVE!_

Rue looks between us, her eyes wide with fear as she contemplates dying. Katniss reaches out to hold her hand and I absentmindedly stroke her hair, as if it's going to stop what's going to happen.

"Did you blow up the food?" Rue asks, looking up at me.

I nod in reply as I try to hold back to tears that are threatening to run over my face.

_She's not going to die. _I remind myself. _She's just hurt. We can find a way to save her. A parachute is going to come at the last minute with life saving medicine. Rue's not going to die so stop crying. She's not. She's not. She's not._

"Every last bit," I say, my voice shaky from trying to hold back the sob that's trying to force it's way through my throat.

_Rue's not going to die._

Rue gives me a shaky nod as a small tear escapes the corner of her eye. I wipe it away with finger as she gives me a small shaky smile.

"Sing," she says. I'm not sure who she's talking to, but it's Katniss who replies with a sweet melody.

"_Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your sleepy head, and close your sleepy eyes_

_And when again they open, the sun will rise."_

Katniss' voice is hauntingly beautiful as she sings the lullaby. A tear slips fro my eye, quickly followed by another one that I try to hold back to no avail. Rue looks at Katniss who looks as if she's trying not to cry when Rue gives her a goodbye smile.

_Don't die, _I think as Katniss continues, tears running down her own face.

"_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_And here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you."_

Katniss voice breaks as more tears fall down her face.

I'm aware of my own breathing becoming ragged and panicked as Rue's eyes meet my own one last time.

"_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_

_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away"_

Katniss voice has gone quiet as she struggles to keep singing through the sobs.

Rue's eyes gently close, as if she's being lulled to sleep. A slumber from which she'll never wake.

_Don't die, Rue. Please, please don't die._

"_Here it's safe, and here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you."_

There is an eerie silence when Katniss finishes her song. Rue's chest barely moves with the small breaths she takes.

_But she's still breathing, _as small voice in my head says hopefully, _She's still alive. She's not dead. She's not going to die. She won't die. Rue, don't die._

BOOM.

Rue's cannon goes off as the young girl stops breathing. I bury my head in her hair as sobs racket through my body.

_No. No. No. No. No. No. No! She's not dead. It's a mistake. She's not dead. _I keep repeating the words inside my head but I know it's no use.

She's gone.

The realisation just makes me cry harder, making me blind to the world outside of the dead girl in my arms.

After a while I feel a hand on my arm and I look up to see Katniss equally upset as I am, holding a small group of flowers and placing them next to Rue's body. I slowly move myself out from under Rue and stand up and pick up a few more flowers from the edge of the trees and place them by Rue's body as Katniss has. We do this until the young girl from District 11's body is covered in flowers.

When we're done Katniss hands me a small group of things from the District 1 boys pack and Rue's. A small pack dried fruit, Rue's socks and some of the food we'd collected the other day when we were hunting. I give her a thankful look as I place them in my pack.

I kneel over Rue's body and give her a small kiss on the top of her head. "Goodbye," I say as I stand up and leave.

Katniss doesn't follow. Instead the Girl on Fire gives me a small nod and leaves in the opposite direction. Our truce ends with Rue's death. I've no doubt that Katniss could've chosen to end it on less peaceful terms, kill me like she did the boy from District 1. She said it earlier, she could kill me in a heartbeat.

But she doesn't. Because of Rue or out of small respect for me, I'm not sure. Maybe she's just had enough death for the day.

There's been enough to last me a lifetime.

And there's still more to come.

**So there you have it, another chapter.**

**So could you guys get me up to... 150 reviews?**

**Please? I had a hard time writing this chapter! It made me sad, I deserve something... **

**Sorry again about the shortness of the chapter.**

**Oh, and the poll's still open so vote on it. I haven't forgotten about that yet.**


	10. A New Alliance

**Hiya, I'm going to continue with the whole:**

**OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS ARE SO EPIC FOR REVIEWING THE LAST CHAPTER! I'M ON 160 REVIEWS! I'M SO HAPPY!**

**Thing that I've been doing the past few chapters because you are all AMAZING! And I really need to buy a thesaurus so I can continue my appraisal of your awesome reviewing/alerting/favouriting skills.**

**So, new chapter. YAY! And as promised, it is considerably longer than the last one and Cato is in it! Unfortunately, not until the end. But don't worry, he's in pretty much all of the next chapter. And the one after that, and the one after that and the one after that and... is there a chapter after that? Maybe, I'm not sure.**

**Speaking of not sure, THE POLL has **_**so **_**many votes on it, which is good, but it's closing soon! I'm keeping it up for the next few chapters and then down it goes and the fate of this story shall be decided!**

**I'm trying to make this all dramatic but I don't think it's working very well.**

**Either way, as per usual I don't own The Hunger Games, go look at the front cover of the book to see who does.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10 - A New Alliance<strong>

"Hello brave tributes," the voice of Claudius Templesmith rings through the arena, "In congratulations for making it to the final seven you're all invited to a feast."

_Of course we are, and we're on the menu._

"Now hold on," Claudius continues, "Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately. Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance."

This catches my interest. _Food, _is my first thought. The food from Rue's pack only lasted me a few days and my memory of non-poisonous plants is already disappearing quickly. I'm starving and I'm certain the audience knows it. So I don't have much of an option about whether or not I go to the feast.

It'll be dangerous though. In fact, I probably have a better chance of surviving by taking my chances with starvation. Cato and the girl from his district will be there, that's certain. Thresh, from Rue's district, will probably be there as well. I'm not sure about the girl from Five, and Katniss or Peeta. I haven't seen or heard either of them since the announcement allowing for two tributes to win from the same district. Surely there's something that they need. But what would they want? Katniss has her bow so she's capable of both getting food and protecting themselves. Maybe the boy needs something? A weapon he can use? The Gamemakers gave him a score of 8 for a reason, right?

But that means that it'll be dangerous. If everyone has something to gain, then everyone will be there. Katniss, at least, I can rely on to not kill me unless we're forced into a direct confrontation. She won't kill me unless she has to. Peeta I'm not too sure about, from what I saw in training, he doesn't seem like the type who'd kill you if he didn't have to. But then again, he was the tribute who killed Kella, so I can't judge based on what I saw in the Training Center, where we were all aware that we were being judged by the other tributes.

I haven't seen Thresh since the first day at the Cornucopia, but I've no doubt that he'd kill me if I got too close. The girl from Five isn't much of a threat, I haven't seen her since Katniss and I blew up the Careers food and she doesn't seem like the type to run at you with a knife. Cato and the girl from his district are a completely different story, they're more of the kill first... and then kill some more types.

No. No way. Most of the tributes won't hesitate in attacking, Katniss and the girl from Five being the only possible exceptions. Risking a fight with Katniss would be dangerous. A fight with Thresh, even more perilous. A fight with Cato and the girl from Two, a death wish.

But then again, they were allies before the games even began, and now that they can both get win there's no reason for them not to share everything with each other. They can trust each other enough to have only one of them collect their item/s and not run off with it.

If only one of them were there, then I'd be far more likely to get out. I could dodge the knives of the girl if I ran fast enough, and if I timed it right and ran when Cato was using his sword to fight another tribute, I'd get away.

Katniss and Peeta will most likely do the same thing, have only one of them go. And since Katniss got the higher score in training and has the weapon of her favour it'll most likely be her going.

I have a chance.

I take my incredibly light pack and throw it over my shoulder as I make my way to the Cornucopia. It feels odd, not having any food in it after the days I spent with Rue lugging a pile of herbs and fruits from one place to another. Now all I have in there is my knife and empty canteen for water.

The clearing where so many tributes have died only days ago is completely empty, save for the Cornucopia itself. I see no sign that anyone has died here, no patches of blood on the grass or the smell of decaying bodies. Just an empty field.

I climb up a tree near the edge of the clearing. It's not so close to the Cornucopia that I'll be seen instantly, but it's not to far away that I'll have to run to even reach the clearing. It's a smart idea, my one, I can wait up here in my tree, see who's coming for their packs, and make my decision on whether or not I'll try and get mine or not. Genius.

As night slowly creeps up on the arena I see the first sign of another tribute coming. The girl from District Five sneaks into the Cornucopia, waiting for her item the Gamemakers promised. Good idea, but she's not going to be able to get out if someone sees her. But then again, the Cornucopia is so dark inside it that I can't even see her now.

I stay in my tree until small peaks of the sun starts to light up the arena, I readjust my pack so that it sits securely over one shoulder, then I climb down slowly and softly, careful not to make any noise to reveal my position. The Cornucopia is no different from last night, there are no packages waiting out in the open, labelling who they are for and what they contain, and no sign of where they might suddenly appear. Maybe they're going to be dropped from the sky by a hovercraft, falling somewhere random on the ground or over another tribute, so that we're all forced to fight each other for our own items. Or maybe they're hidden around the Cornucopia or up in the trees, so we have to find our items while simultaneously dodging the attacks from other tributes. Or perhaps I've stayed her to long, I've been up the tree, eagerly watching the Cornucopia for so long that the Gamemakers haven't had the chance to place everyone's items by the Cornucopia.

Or perhaps me and the girl from Five are the only ones here, the other tributes arriving haven't made any signs that they're here. I would've thought that that's what they would do. Especially Cato and his partnering tribute, all they'd have to do is start a fire somewhere near here, indicating there willingness to make a grab for their, and anyone else's, items. If they were both here I'd run a mile. One of them I can handle, both is just too much.

Without warning the ground near the mouth of the Cornucopia splits open, and an elegant table covered in a white tablecloth emerges from out of it.

_White, how fitting, very easy for the blood to show on it._

There are five backpacks sitting on the table, waiting for one of us to make a move on them. The packs that have the numbers 2, 3 or 11 on them are the largest; the one for the girl from Five is considerably smaller than mine, Cato and the girl from his district, and Thresh's, but not nearly as tiny as Katniss', which is barely bigger than my hand.

_Food. Food. Food. _I chant a desperate prayer in my head as I think of how long the food that a pack that size could hold would last. Long enough for me to stay in hiding the remainder of the games...

If that pack was all food, then all I'd need to do is hide for the rest of the games, let the other tributes finish each other off and slit the last one's throat in their sleep. It'd be so easy... I have the knife. I'd have the food. I wouldn't be found. I wouldn't die. I could live. And all it'd take is that pack of food and the small amount of time it'd take for me to run my knife over a tributes neck, staining the once flawless and perfectly clean silver with red... And become a cold hearted murderer, just like the boy who killed Rue... The _monster _who killed Rue.

Maybe it isn't the best plan.

There's an unearthly silence around the arena now, no movement can be seen across the small clearing. For a moment I allow myself to foolishly think that I'm the only one who's bothered to collect their own pack, and that everyone else figured that it wasn't worth the bother. But then I look around and notice that while most of the bushes sway with the breeze, others don't move at all, as if someone's gripping onto them to make sure that they can't be seen.

I guess I'm not as alone as I thought.

I debate running for my pack, get to it before another tribute can, but I decide against it. It's too... empty out there. Katniss could send an arrow whizzing at my head without even leaving her hiding spot... assuming that she is here. And the girl from District Two, she could most certainly throw a knife with fatal aim and run for her own pack before anyone could stop her. And Cato... he's just dangerous. Full stop.

No, it's safer to wait until everyone else is distracted with chasing after someone else.

The girl from District Five is the first to make a run for her bag. I almost expect to see a knife or arrow come whizzing from the trees and stop her before she reaches her pack. But then again, she's the only tribute smart enough to have considered hiding in the actual Cornucopia, so their time to aim and throw has been halved. She's not a major threat anyway, probably not worth running out there and putting their own heads on the line when they could so easily hunt her down later, in their own time.

Not long after the girls' escape, Katniss appears from out of the trees, running across the clearing to her pack. She's almost there before the girl from Two runs out and throws the knife at her head. I gasp as Katniss narrowly dodges the throw, aiming her own weapon at the girl, managing to send an arrow into her shoulder.

I look around the trees nervously for any sign of Cato jumping out and helping his ally from the 'sure kill' that's certainly fighting back. When I see no sign of him I jump from my hiding place and make a beeline for my backpack, running as fast as I can to get out of there quickly, just in case District 2 decides to give up on Katniss and actually get her backpack like she came for.

I don't see Thresh crash through the clearing until I collide with him. He's obviously startled by my sudden appearance but he manages to stay standing, unlike myself who is sent to the ground. The boy from Rue's district is far scarier when you're seeing him loom over you while you lie helpless on the ground than you would think. I scramble backwards as he takes a step forward and fear fills my mind as I look helplessly over to Katniss to see if there's any last minute surge of pity running through her that will cause her to donate one of her precious arrows to Thresh's head.

No such luck. She's in a position as desperate as my own, trapped on the ground while the girl from District 2 leans over her, taunting her with the deadly array of knives she holds.

Thresh takes another step towards me and reaches out his hands. So this is it. I'm going to die. The only question is how. Is he going to strangle me? Snap my neck? – Going the same way as the boy from my district, oh how the audience would love that – Or is he going to... pick up a giant rock and...

Oh crap.

I desperately try to pick myself up off the ground while simultaneously never taking my eyes off the rock in his hand. It's not a good tactic. I'm flat on my back before Thresh even has to force me back down. I close my eyes and wait for the blow of the rock against my head. It doesn't come. I take a look and find Thresh still above me, rock in hand, eyes blazing with fury. But his gaze isn't directed at me; instead he's sending a piercing glare at the girl from District 2. I take the small moment to listen in on what she's saying to Katniss as Thresh moves away from me and over to the girl.

"_What was her name again? The one who hopped around in trees? Rue? Well, first Rue, then you, and then I think we'll just let nature take care of Lover Boy. How does that sound?" _I can hear the girl say. I've missed most of their conversation but I'm burning with anger at the use of Rue to taunt Katniss. If I weren't so far away I'd be running at her, stealing one of her knives off her and trying to use them against her. But I don't bother to get up. Because Thresh is behind her now.

I watch transfixed as he picks her up off the ground and throws her back down to Earth as if she weighs no more than a rag doll. "What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?" Thresh shouts so I don't have to strain my ears to hear him.

"No! No it wasn't me!" The girls reply is frantic as she scurries away from him, much like I had.

"You said her name. I heard you. You kill her? You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?" Thresh asks, his voice menacing and I can see his hand which holds the rock twitching slightly, as if begging to be used.

"No! No I–" the girl begins but stops when Thresh's hand rises. "Cato!" she screams, "Cato!"

"Clove!" the reply is enough to snap me back to my senses and I turn and run for my pack before I see Thresh slam the rock against Clove's skull.

I feel a small tinge of sorrow for Cato. I know what it's like, hearing someone you care about beg for help and being to far away to help. I also know what it's like to lose the tribute from your district.

But the nice feelings of sympathy I have for him only last for a split second before they are squashed though with a bitter thought I have.

_And that's his fault. Rue died by the hand of one of his Careers. Mikail's neck was snapped by Cato. Now he knows what it's like._

_Karma's a bitch._

I sprint for my pack and throw it over my free shoulder and run for the trees, seeing Thresh run for his own pack and Cato enter the clearing. I send a quick look over my shoulder to see Cato leaning over Clove's motionless body, the most human expression that I've ever seen on his face as he begs her not to die.

_I didn't get the chance to do that with Mikail... The again, we weren't close enough that I would've left his body with anything more than a few tears._

_I guess I'm lucky that way._

_Karma, Cato._

_Karma. Karma. Karma._

I run for a few minutes until the cannon announcing Clove's death goes off. Then I stop. When Thresh took off he stole Cato's pack and left in a different direction to the one I went. Cato will be chasing after him, and even if he did choose to go after me, I already have a good head start.

I slide the backpack off my shoulder as I sit down against a small tree stump and open the zip.

_Food. Food. Food. _I chant as I look into the bags contents.

A scowl covers my face as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly before opening them once more, hoping that I wasn't looking at it right. The silver flail is identical to the one from the training – albeit, this one may be deadlier with the extra spikes and the lighter weight it has. I try not to scream in frustration as I pull out the weapon that helped me impress the Gamemakers and desperately search through the pack for anything else.

I'm not sure what I'm looking for. A note would be nice. A note saying:

'_Dear Adelina,_

_Haha, almost got you there. A giant pack of food is being sent down to you in a parachute right now. You can keep the flail if you like, but what you really want is now on its way to you._

_Lots of love, The Gamemakers._

_P.s We've managed to poison all the other tributes, so you winning is a sure thing.'_

To be fair, the weapon is good. Top of the range, perfect, even better than the one the trainer at the station had. I should be thankful for the gift. I could probably kill someone with this. Not Thresh or Cato, probably not even Katniss, but maybe the girl from Five or the boy from Twelve, if I got close enough.

Upon further inspection I find a small packet of crackers and small piece of raw meat. It's enough to keep me going maybe... two days? If I take only small pieces of the meat. It's barely anything, begrudgingly given by the Gamemakers so I actually survive long enough to use the weapon that they've so graciously given me, even thought it's clear that the food is what I need most. But I guess this is a push in the direction that they want me to go in. The fighting one. After all, my score from training indicates that I probably could fight. Almost everyone who received a score high enough has proved their deadliness: Thresh, Cato, and Katniss have already proved that they're capable of killing. Even Peeta, he was the one that finished off Kella, after all.

I shove the food and flail back into the backpack and hurriedly throw it over my shoulder when I hear the sound of footsteps and snapping twigs coming from the direction of the Cornucopia.

_Stupid, _I mentally slap myself as I run, _Of course he wouldn't follow the exact path that Thresh took. You idiot!_ The bag jiggles around uncomfortably, the items in it bouncing up and down. I realise that I haven't put zipped up the back pack. It's a stupid worry to have at a time like this and shouldn't at all be a priority, but it slows down my running so that my gifts from the Gamemakers don't fall out onto the ground.

Because I am _not _stopping to pick them up.

I could probably swing my backpack over and zip it up while I run, but I don't. I could run faster than I currently am without risking my flail falling out, but I don't. I could ignore the burning in my legs from the constant running that I seem to be doing, but I don't.

The sound of footsteps coming closer should be enough to make me move faster, but it doesn't serve any motivation. I'm tired. Of everything. Running, seeing people die. I'm ready to give up. Let someone else win; let them keep on fighting against the horrible memories and the guilt. All the guilt. Clove didn't _have_ to die, I could've stopped Thresh from killing her _and _given Katniss time to get her pack and escape. I could've run faster and stopped Rue from dying. I could've jumped out from my hiding place and stopped Mikail from getting his neck snapped. I could've picked Kella up off the ground and saved her from her terrible fate.

But I didn't. And just like I didn't save them, I won't save myself.

The second I stop running I'm tackled to the ground, my backpack flying across the ground, it's contents spreading everywhere, the flail just out of my reach. Cato's above me, pinning me down, holding his sword to my neck, ready to make the fatal cut. There's something different about him, when we were in the Training Center.

Then he was all confidence, the arrogant tribute with the skills and attitude that comes with someone who _knows _that they're going to win, the tribute that you only hope isn't going to be the one to kill you. Now he's lost most of that, his face is uncertain as he presses the sword down on my neck, his eyes have a reddish tinge to them, as if he's been crying over the death of the girl from his district, and they hold that scary touch of insanity that I've seen before in most of the previous victor's eyes when they made their final kill.

"Please," I beg. _Make it quick. _To my surprise he doesn't give me that horrid smirk and slice the sword across my neck, instead he eases up the pressure of his weapon on my neck.

"You were allies with District 12," he states.

I give a small nod, very wary of the consequences of pressing my neck against the sharp edge of the sword. "Y-yes, but not anymore," I stutter out, unsure of where he's going with this.

"But you _were _allies with her; you know what she can do." Cato's face shifts from the almost human look it had to the unreadable, cold one that had been on his face when he killed Kella.

I nod again.

Cato smirks, "And you know where she and Lover Boy are hiding."

_No. Absolutely no idea._

"Maybe," I lie, "I have a rough idea."

_Yup, and what are you going to do when he asks you where?_

He lifts the sword from my neck and releases his hold on me, standing up "Then help me find her."

I'm faced with two options here: One: I could tell the truth and die. Or Two: I could lie, ally myself with one of the toughest competitors in the games, who's also a notorious jerk who helped me, kissed me then played some role in the deaths of almost every single tribute that I've allied myself with, or actually cared for. I'd live longer, but die what's certain to be a very painful death later.

Yes... Many could argue that I'm not very smart for choosing the latter of the two.

* * *

><p><strong>So there you go, they have an alliance.<strong>

**So, review challenge!**

**Yes, be scared. So with my amazing mathematical skills *Cough: Story stats: Cough*, I have discovered that I got 37 reviews on the last chapter, 45 on the one before that, and 40 on the one before that...**

**If I got 40 reviews on this chapter...**

**Yes, that would bring me up to 200 hundred reviews... Big, scary number, I know, it's the stuff of nightmares.**

**So I promise that I'll update as soon as I get 200 hundred reviews. Literally the second I get up to 200 hundred reviews, I will update.**

**Do you think you can handle this mission? Yes? No? Well to bad, I'm giving it to you anyway.**

**Oh and vote on the poll. That's almost as important as reviewing.**


	11. Close Calls

**223 REVIEWS! YOU GUYS ROCK! AHHH YOU'RE SO AWESOME!**

**And I know that I said I would update the second I hit 200 reviews, but that was at 2:00 in the morning or something, and I was asleep then. And then I didn't update as soon as I woke up because I hadn't finished the chapter yet. Any way, I've updated now and that's all that matters.**

**So, if you haven't voted on the poll yet you need to! Like really soon. I'm closing it after I update the next chapter!**

**When that will come out I'm not sure. I have to go to my Nan's sisters funeral on Thursday, and that's in Heathcote where I'm staying for the weekend. And I have no internet access up there. I might update tomorrow... Maybe, I'll see...**

**I don't own the Hunger Games... wow, I think that's the least inventive way I've ever said it!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11 - Close Calls<strong>

It's either a stroke of luck that Cato decides to hunt down Thresh before Katniss and Peeta, or I'm not as good of a liar as I thought and this is a very clever plan.

"Hurry up," Cato calls over his shoulder to me as we make our way through the trees, the amounts of which are rapidly decreasing as we near a field of grass.

I roll my eyes at his bossy attitude as I deliberately walk slower to annoy him. It's become something of a game, a way for us to bond over our journey across the arena to hunt down someone who killed a girl with a rock. _A rock! _I'll admit it's not the most popular choice of weapon, but it gets the job done. Efficiently too, I'm quite thankful for the girl who died, especially since he was going to kill me before she turned up... Which I should not be thinking since I'm travelling with the guy who's avenging her death and has been known to snap necks when he has a temper tantrum.

The game of such is the one where I allow him to be a rude arse hole and boss me around, and in return he pretends he can't see the glares and fowl looks I send in his direction and my mutterings about him that contain a series of foul curse words are deaf to his ears. Of course, a reaction would be nice; especially since he's so rude to me it would be nice to know that I infuriate him as much as he does me. But I suppose having Cato ignore me is best. And lucky.

That boy has anger issues.

We've been walking since Cato agreed to let me live if I helped him find Katniss and Peeta, finally after another hour of walking I can see our destination up ahead.

_Grass. See, just grass. Only your average grass. Yes, it's very tall grass that goes up to your shoulders, but it's just grass. Only grass. Nothing to be scared of..._

_The tribute inside it on the other hand..._

Rain begins to pour down heavily as we reach the field where Thresh is hidden. I debate how far I could run if I turned and fled before Cato caught me and dragged me back here. Or killed me on the spot. He could do that.

So running isn't a good idea, but maybe I could reason with him. If Cato didn't want to face Thresh when he had four other tributes helping him, then why would he now, when all he has is his sword and me?

Which brings me back to the clever plan idea. It's quite simple really, he teams up with me and we go out to hunt the only tribute who has a chance of beating Cato when he's on his own, Cato uses me to distract Thresh and while the cannon goes off announcing that my death, Cato will be able to sneak up on him and stab him in the back, recover his backpack, Thresh's and my own, goes after Katniss, Peeta and the girl from Five with his newly acquired goods, win the Hunger Games and live happily ever after.

It's a pretty good plan.

"Be quiet," Cato warns as he takes a daring step into the grass, "Don't make any sudden movements or sounds. Just don't do anything that will let him know you're there."

I roll my eyes, "I wasn't planning on it."

We're walking through the thickets of grass for only a few minutes before the sky starts to turn dark the rain pours down even heavier than before.

"Can we find shelter?" I ask, brushing a wet strand of hair away from my face, "I'm saturated and I don't want to be looking for him at night." I can see that Cato's about to ignore my suggestion, tell me 'Suck it up Princess' or something else along the lines of that so I quickly continue, "Look, we don't know this place as well as Thresh does. _You've _lost most of the things you got out of the Cornucopia, I haven't got much in my pack, we've got a better chance of getting him during the day, if he finds us at night we're finished."

Cato rolls his eyes. "Fine, if it makes you feel better there's a tree up there that we can sleep under, we'll kill Thresh in the morning." He tries to make it sound like it's a big hindrance but I can see that he was thinking along the same lines as I.

I pause for a brief second as something he said startles me slightly.

"_We'll kill Thresh in the morning..."_

_Because that's just something that you put in a sentence everyday._

I look out into the distance and see the tree that Cato's talking about. There are a few of them out there, we're still fairly close to the edge of the field and where the occasional tree can be found. Of course, it's no taller than the grass, but the leaves will stop most of the water from getting us too wet.

We're by the tree when we hear a small growling noise coming from the grass.

"What's that?" I ask as Cato instinctively draws his sword, grinning like a maniac as he waits for the cause of the noise to show itself.

"Don't know, but we're about to find out," he's smiling as he says this, twirling the sword absentmindedly in his hand as the grass rustles from whatever's inside it.

All of a sudden, the grass parts and a creature that only reaches up to my knees leaps forward, snarling furiously. It looked like an overgrown cat. Matted, out of control fur obscure most of its facial features, save for its razor sharp fang. Its body in a lion-like crouch, razor sharp claws digging into the ground before it launches itself through the air at me.

It's a pathetic creature, but I've no doubt that its claws could do some real damage. Luckily Cato steps in front of me at the last second, laughing like this is entertainment as with a flick of his sword he sends the weak creature to the ground. Not to be beaten, the cat is up in an instant, circling Cato as though he is the prey and it is one with the sword. The cat hisses as Cato takes a step towards it and sends his sword into its body.

"Dinner," he grins, laughing at the disgusted look on my face.

_Yum._

"What are you doing?" I hiss, panic automatically kicking in as Cato lights a fire and holds the creature over it.

"I'm lighting a fire," he says, looking at me like I'm an idiot, "What the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

"Lighting a fire," I say, waiting for him to get the problem.

"Yes, Ada, it's what you do when you want to get warm and cook food."

"And also what you do when you want everyone else to know where you are," I snap back.

Cato rolls his eyes and smirks, "Oh so _that's _why you're so worried. In case you haven't noticed, I'm biggest predator around here, the top of the food chain. Who do I have to be worried about finding me? No one. Everyone's trying to avoid me. And if they do happen to find me and think that they can sneak up on me during the night..." he pauses and smiles darkly, the light of the fire casting a sinister shadow over his face, adding to the effect as he warns me, "Well it's not going to end so well for them. I'm a light sleeper."

"Didn't Katniss drop a tracker jacker nest on your head? You slept through that." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Cato's smile instantly leaves his face as he sends me a dark scowl, "Something that's not going to happen again."

_I don't doubt it, _I think as I fiddle with the knife from my pack, _But it's not going to happen to me either._

That night I sleep with one eye open and a knife cradled to my chest.

* * *

><p>It's raining in the morning, even harder than yesterday.<p>

"Well this just keeps on getting better and better," I comment as we pack our things. Or rather, Cato packs up his sleeping bag that made last night considerably more comfortable for him (in comparison to me, who had to sleep on the ground in the rain), and I wait for him to finish.

"All the more exciting," Cato replies, grinning.

"You're an idiot," I state.

"Said the girl who would be dead if it weren't for me," Cato has a smirk on his face as he hoists his pack over his shoulder.

The downside to having my backpack from the Cornucopia, it's heavier and I have more to carry than Cato.

I scoff. "You're so annoying that that thing probably wanted to die after being around you for to long."

"Please, that is the lamest comeback I've ever heard. As a side note, you _are _the one who starts all our conversations," Cato smirks.

_Did I ever claim to be able to think of good comebacks?_

"Something that I regret each time I have to hear your horrid voice," I retort.

"You couldn't go an hour without talking to me," Cato grins as he checks that all of the fire from last night has been put out from the rain.

"If it meant never having to talk to you, I would never talk again," I snap back.

"Prove it. Two days. No talking."

"Easy. If I can go without talking to you for that long then I win," I grin as I shake his hand.

It's not much of a bet. Neither of us are willing to put anything we own at risk. Our possessions are limited enough as it is and even deciding who would carry the rest of the animal from last night in their pack was hard. I don't trust him not to do something with it and he doesn't trust me with it.

Really the only thing that we get out of this is holding it over the loser's head. I'm really not better than Cato at anything, aside from thinking logically and creating a plan, but that's not much to boast about when you're dealing with someone who thinks that 'Go into the me 'Go into a place we've never been before. Find Thresh. Kill Thresh.' Is a good plan.

I zip up my jacket before I hoist my two backpacks onto my back. I look up at Cato who's left his own jacket lying on the ground in a puddle of mud and is standing out in the rain as if it has no effect on him. Which is stupid because it's freezing.

It's at this point that I sorely regret betting that I could go two days without talking, so I can't make a smart remark on the jacket. After a while I lean over and pick it up off the ground and hold it out for him to take.

He looks at it for a second, as if questioning why I'm holding it out for him before taking it and shoving it roughly into his pack. "I won't need it," he says as he starts moving, his long strides have me scurrying to keep up. There's no use in asking him to slow down. It's keep up or get left behind with Cato. Maybe I'll be happy with getting left behind later. But not here, not in the field that holds dangerous creatures

And so we walk through the field, looking for any sign of the boy from District 11. And that is all I focus on. That and how annoying Cato is. How infuriating he is. How warped, twisted and sadistic that the idea of killing someone appeals to him.

I am under no circumstance paying attention to how his refusal to wear his jacket is helping his shirt stick to his chest, showing the rippling muscles underneath. No, I am not paying attention to that whatsoever.

"How's the whole, 'I'm not speaking to you' thing going?" Cato teases.

I roll my eyes and push ahead of him, fighting my own way through the thick blades of grass. Cato puts his hand on my shoulder, as if to pull me back. I shrug off his grip, only to have him place another hand on my shoulder and pull me to the ground.

"Shhhh," he says as he places a hand over my mouth.

I take it off and glare at him, remembering that I'm not supposed to talk. I move to stand up but am pulled back down by Cato.

"Idiot," Cato mutters before whispering in my ear, "If you want to live, then you have to listen to me. Stay the fuck down."

This time I actually look through the grass and see what he's talking about. They're cleverly hidden and I have to look extremely hard to see what Cato's talking about, but they're there. Two large packs, one with the number 11 on the front and another with the number 2, are hidden behind a particularly tall clump of grass and are covered in various pieces of dirt and ripped out blades of grass. It's only luck that we saw them, I certainly would've walked past them, discarding them as a patch of uneven ground, no different from the dozens that we've already passed.

Thresh and Cato's packs.

_So where's Thresh?_

As of to answer my question a rustling in the grass behind us makes us both swivel to face the source of the noise. Another rustling noise sounds from the opposite direction and I turn to face that direction while Cato remains in the same place, eyes narrowed at the grass as if it's going to reveal Thresh's hiding place.

For the millionth time I find myself thinking that this isn't the best idea.

The rustling continues until we're turning in circles, looking for the source of the noise. And then Cato makes a wild stab to one side of the grass, a short yelp of surprise and pain letting him know that he's hit his target.

"Get my pack," Cato orders as he immediately jumps forward, taking the unexpecting Thresh by surprise when he pushes him to the ground. "And find out what's in his."

I waste no time in running over to the backpacks as Thresh manages to push Cato off him only to be tackled to the ground once more as Cato desperately tries to keep him pinned there as he places his sword over Thresh's neck. It doesn't stay there for long, Thresh unexpectedly rolls over onto his side, throwing Cato off him. Cato's up in an instant, punching Thresh in the jaw, making use of the small moment where Thresh is stunned to pick up his sword off the ground and attempt to stab Thresh with it.

But Thresh is faster than he looks and within a second he's twisted around and ripped the weapon out of Cato's grasp. Cato's clearly shocked when Thresh stabs him in the shoulder, having never been beaten in armed combat by one of the tributes before. Thresh drops leaves the sword in Cato's shoulder, shoves him to the ground and walks over to his pack, looking for his pack.

I half expect Cato to jump up from the ground and run at Thresh one more time, but he's lying still, either in shock at being stabbed or not bothering to move yet, catching his breath. When it becomes clear he's not going to provide a distraction for me, I resort to plan B. I'm torn between running away, or pulling out my flail to defend myself then running away. And I take to long to decide.

Thresh turns his attention to me as I'm in the worst position right next to his pack. His hands are outstretched as he starts toward me, like at the feast, but this time he doesn't have a rock. My eyes widen as I scurry backwards like last time, except Clove's not there to make an infuriating comment about Rue that will cause him to abandon me, Cato's lying too far away to help and even if he could save me, it'd be the smarter thing to wait until I was dead and then attack Thresh.

Hands close around my neck, pulling me up off the ground and closing my airways. I try to take a deep breath to see how tight his grip on me is and am alarmed when all I can draw is the tiniest sliver of oxygen. My mind goes into panic mode as I desperately to escape. My legs dangling in air try and kick him, something that he ignores as though they're small bugs; I place my hands over his own and try to pull them off me to no avail.

Thresh squeezes his hands together and I give out a small cry of pain as all oxygen is cut off from my body. Black spots begin to appear in my vision as my body begins to feel heavier and heavier. Suddenly the idea of falling asleep seems much easier and preferable.

Thresh's grip on me suddenly slackens considerably and I'm dropped to the ground, shocked to find that he's let me go. Not that I'm complaining. I waste no time in catapulting myself away from him, scurrying backwards and not stopping until I've reached the packs.

Thresh gives me a look of surprise as he leans against the body behind him, as if he can't believe that there's actually a piece of steel protruding from his chest.

_BOOM_

Cato pulls his sword out of Thresh's heart and drops his body to the ground, wiping the blade against his shirt, trying to get off some of the red liquid that's already being washed away in the rain. I stay silent for a few minutes as I try to figure out what to say. Saying 'Thankyou' sounds too gruesome, I shouldn't be thanking him for killing someone.

Eventually I settle on, "Why?" My voice is raspy from Thresh's attack and comes out barely louder than a whisper, but it's enough for Cato to look up at me in surprise.

"Why what?" he asks, confused. He's holding his injured arm

"Why did you sav me?" I clarify.

The pause that lasts is so long that I'm certain that my question is going to be ignored, then Cato recovers from whatever had been holding his silence and his normal cocky attitude returns. "I told you, I need your help to find Katniss and Lover Boy."

"No," I persist, "You could find them on your own. You don't need me for that."

Cato stops for yet another moment, as if trying to think of why he did save me. This only lasts for a second before he smirks at me. "You talked to me."

"Yes, well noticed. What does that have to do with stopping Thresh from killing me?" I snap.

He gives me an infuriating grin, "That means I win our bet. If you died then you would never talk to me again, making you the winner."

I open my mouth to argue but he's already walked off. For a moment I think that he's going to leave me here, that this is a 'this is the end of our truce. I'm giving you time to run' thing, but then he turns around and says, "Are you coming or not?"

"Seriously though," I say as I jog to catch up to him as he trudges along through the rain, holding both Thresh's and his backpacks from the Gamemakers on his uninjured shoulder seemingly slowing him down slightly, making it easier for me to walk at his pace. "Why _did _you stop Thresh from killing me? The smarter thing to do would be to wait until he finished me off, _then _kill him the second after."

"_Ada," _Cato says as he turns around, an incredulous smile on his face, "Drop it already. If you really wish that I'd let Thresh kill you I'm sure I can try and strangle you like he did."

"No, no," I say, a small smile on my face at the new sight of him with an expression that isn't one of anger or supremacy, "That's not necessary. I'll be fine without."

Cato laughs, the first _real _laugh of his that I've heard, "I thought so."

* * *

><p><strong>Does anyone else find it ironic that I've had the tribute from District 11 die in the 11<strong>**th**** chapter?**

**So anyway, some budding friendship between Cato and Ada... Oooh... I'm really failing at trying to make it dramatic, aren't I?**

**So as I mentioned earlier, I'll be away from my computer for the weekend, so here you have a choice.**

**You can either**

**Get me up to 250 reviews overnight**

**Or**

**Not get me to 250 reviews and wait until sometime next week for an update**

**It's your choice ;)**

**AND VOTE ON THAT STUPID POLL! Last chance people!**


	12. Distractions

**293 reviews? Good job guys.**

**Here is the chapter, as promised. It's slightly shorter than they usually are, and it's definitely not my favourite... Except for the ending, I like the ending of it *smiles evilly***

**Oh, and I've close the poll. So yes, there will be a sequel.**

**Forgive any mistakes in this chapter, I wrote it in a hurry.**

**But I didn't write the Hunger Games.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12 – The Distraction<strong>

Once far away from Thresh's field, we waste no time in setting up a fire and trying to warm ourselves up, despite that each fire only last a few minutes before it is doused out by the rain. Fortunately, that clears up the next day, as though we've appeased the Gamemaker Gods by offering up Thresh as a sacrifice.

It's a mutual agreement to not do anything the day after Thresh died. Both Cato and I are far to tired to be hunting down anyone and I have a big day planned wallowing in self pity. I absentmindedly rub my hands down my throat where I'm aware of the bruises appearing, as if by doing so I can stop them from showing.

Of course such an activity can only keep me amused for so long.

And who better to keep me amused than Cato?

After the hour of mindless bickering that ensues, I manage to convince Cato, who evidently can't feel any pain, to let me wrap a small make shift bandage out of some ripped up material from his jacket (which he graciously donated) around his shoulder.

Our luggage load is considerably smaller, as well. We keep only our large Backpacks from the Gamemakers, transporting everything else from our old ones into the bigger ones. Thresh's backpack isn't among what we carry, instead discarded by the edge of a tree, holding nothing of any use to us. Actually it never held anything as Cato and I are both shocked to find out that Thresh, rather than let us have his gift from the Gamemakers hid the contents of his bag.

To quote Cato: "_That son of a bitch emptied it earlier. It's only got useless fucking rocks in it."_

That's the toned down version. Technically what Cato said had a few extra choice words thrown in to make the statement more colourful.

Only the sight of what lay in his own pack is enough to calm Cato down. A mesh body armour for him brightens his mood considerably as he rushes to put it on. It's the most excited I've ever seen him.

Our lazing about can only last for one day though, and after a refreshing nights sleep both Cato and I wake at the crack of the dawn to go hunting. Tribute hunting.

_BOOM_

The sound of the cannon is startling and unexpected enough to make me jump.

"Who do you think it was?" I ask Cato.

He shrugs. "Lover Boy?" his voice is hopeful as he shifts his pack's position on his shoulders so that the weight is more on the uninjured one.

"Don't care about Katniss anymore?" I tease, "Finally got over that she got a better score than you?"

"It was a one point difference," Cato grumbles, returning to the fowl mood that he normally has whenever the training scores are mentioned, "A stroke of luck. It makes it look like she's better than me. I'm going to have to correct that."

I roll my eyes at his sadistic grin, it's not the first time he's said it. Beaten by a girl. Must still be a touchy subject. "So does that mean that we can stop for today?" I ask, "Someone's already died today, we can go look for the rest tomorrow."

"No," Cato says firmly, "We find them today, we kill them tomorrow."

"But we don't even know who we're looking for!"

My cries of protest fall on deaf ears as Cato walks ahead without me anyway.

Whatever, it's not like I should have any say.

* * *

><p>"It's the girl from Five," I say as a face flickers across the sky.<p>

"Who?" Cato looks away from the fire we've set up for our camp and over to me. We sit in my usual places, myself as close to the shadows as possible, further away from the fire than necessary, and Cato as close to it as possible.

"The cannon earlier, it was for her," I say, indicating to the sky as her name disappears.

"Pity," Cato says, "It would've been more fun if it was one of the other two."

The Capitol's anthem plays once more before slowly coming to a stop and the only sound to be heard is the crackling of the flames.

"You don't have to sleep that far out you know," Cato says, breaking the awkward silence, "I'm not going to kill you in your sleep, I promise."

I grin and say, "Good to know. Now I can sleep at night."

I shuffle over to the fire, thankful for the warmth and not having to worry about anyone seeing it. It silent once more, both Cato and I sit by the fire, staring transfixed into the bright lights of the flickering flames, entrapped in our thoughts.

It's a very deep moment. It only lasts about a minute.

"When I saw the District Twelve reapings, I thought that what's-her-face said that her name was Cat Piss," Cato remarks out of the blue.

I can't help the peal of laughter rising from my chest, "What?"

"Well it's not that difficult to confuse the two, Katniss, Cat Piss, really it's a one letter difference," Cato grins, giving a small laugh.

And that's all it takes. We laugh harder and longer than the joke deserves, but once we start we can't stop. Neither of us have had a good reason to laugh in such a while that the feeling is welcomed back with open arms.

I look down and shake my head, "And now I know for certain that I am the brains of this operation."

"That's just mean. If you're smarter than me what hope do I have?" Cato laughs, his voice sounding closer than before.

I look up, finding Cato's face nearer to mine than I expect. I try not to do something stupid that would ruin the moment, like flinching back with surprise at his close proximity. I manage to stay still, as does Cato until, as if he's reaffirmed as decision, he inches slightly closer to me without breaking eye contact before dipping his head down and capturing my lips in a kiss.

_Wow._

* * *

><p>Somehow during the night, I've managed to entangle myself in Cato's arms and awake to find my head on his chest with his arms wrapped around me tightly. I shift around a little, trying to loosen his grip, only to be met with mumbled protests. After a while I give up and face the fact that it's impossible for me to get out without waking him and alerting him to our awkward position. After a few minutes of debating how to approach the situation I settle on not-so-gently elbowing him in the stomach. I probably don't hurt him much, what with the armour that he's wearing, but it wakes him up.<p>

He looks down at me in confusion, all traces of sleep gone form his eyes in only a few seconds. "What are you doing?"

"What are _you _doing?" I counter.

"I just woke up. What are you doing on top of me?" Cato questions as he raises an eyebrow.

"What are you doing keeping me here?" I retort, pulling at his arms, which he quickly removes from my waist when he notices their position.

There's a large awkward silence while we both lie there, completely unsure of what to do next.

"Let's forget this ever happened." Cato says, hurriedly pushing himself up off the ground.

"Good plan," I agree, quickly moving away from him like he has a disease. "Never mentioning it again. It will be locked away in a safe in my mind, never to be opened again. Or I might just dump the memory out of my head and into an ocean, where it can drown or something. Maybe I'll–"

"Ada, shut up. Now," Cato rolls his eyes as he roughly shoves his sleeping bag into his backpack.

"Got it," I say, giving him a thumbs up. "So since the girl from Five's dead, I'm assuming that we're going looking for Katniss and Peeta?" I ask as I pull my flail out of the backpack, swinging it around for fun.

"Not us, _me._" Cato corrects, returning his sword to its usual place. In his hand.

I give Cato a withering look, "And what am I supposed to do then? Just wait around? You'd have a better chance if we were together."

"You're not coming," Cato snarls, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he glares down at me.

It's then that I catch a small glimpse of movement from over his shoulder, the sound of footsteps on the ground become clearer and my eyes widen with fright.

"I don't think there's much of a choice," I say in a small voice as Cato slowly looks over his shoulder and catches sight of the monstrous beast behind him.

"You're right," he says, backing away, "Run!"

Giant dogs. Ferocious giant dogs. Blood thirsty, ferocious giant dogs. Blood thirsty, ferocious, _fast _giant dogs.

They chase us through the arena, keeping us moving, snapping at our heels if we let them get to close. We don't bother picking up our packs, only keeping a death grip on the weapons we're already holding as we run.

"There are more of them," I pant as continue running for what feels like hours.

"I know," Cato says, sending a quick glance over his shoulder, checking how much distance we've managed to make between the pack of muttations and ourselves. Not much.

The ache in my chest burns even more and my legs scream in protest at the thought of having to move faster. I'm slowing down, not by much, but I'm lagging behind Cato and the sound of the mutts growling seems closer and louder than earlier.

"Come on," Cato grabs my hand and pulls me up to where he is, "Don't slow down."

"What are we going to do?" my question is barely audible through my gasps for breath.

"Cornucopia," is all Cato manages to choke out. Of course, it's the perfect place; the mutts won't be able to climb up there.

Hopefully.

We try to pick up our speed as one mutt that's particularly faster than the others, runs up close to us, jaws open, ready to rip off an arm or so. Thinking fast, I swing my flail around to meet the side of its face. I haven't hit it very hard, but it's enough to make the dog back off and fall back into line with the other muttations.

Another mutt bravely leaps forward, only to stumble back as Cato, finally remembering that he has a weapon, throws his sword into its eye with deadly aim. Not so smart, that leaves him unarmed with the dogs getting closer and closer. The next one to take a stab at us is smarter than the others and comes up my left side so I have to twist around to hit it with the flail. Once again the creature proves its smarts by latching onto the chain with its teeth and ripping it out of my grasp.

Luckily the force at which it pulls my only weapon away from me causes the end of it to swing back up, hitting the dog, the few seconds of surprise the action causes gives us just enough time get out of its reach.

We maintain a steady distance between us and the dogs from then on, not slowing our speed for anything. The only slight distraction is when we pass Katniss and Peeta, who look at us in shock when we run straight past them without a second glance. At one point Katniss sends an arrow at Cato which bounces off him without inflicting any harm, thanks to the armour that he still hasn't taken off.

After a few seconds I hear their footsteps follow ours as they see the dogs.

Good, that might distract them, stop all the mutts from ganging up on me and Cato.

When we reach our destination I waste no time in scrambling to the top of the Cornucopia, giving Cato a small hand in getting up here before I give up the fight to keep my muscles moving. I collapse in a heap on the roof of the Cornucopia, my breathing heavy from exhaustion and Cato does the same, sitting down next to me.

"You alright?" he asks once he's got enough breath to speak.

I give a small nod, "You?"

"Fine."

I try to sit up next to him but my muscles are still wobbly from the running. Slowly we manage to even our breathing out slightly, but we're both exhausted. A feeling of sickness overcomes me and my heart pounds in my ears and I lean over to retch out the contents of my stomach.

I'm aware of Katniss and Peeta finally arriving and pulling themselves up the Cornucopia with not a second to spare as the mutts reach us, leaping up at the sides, forcing me away from the edge. While I pay the newcomers no attention, Cato does. It's subtle but I can see the way his muscles tense slightly and he works harder to regain his energy and slowly rise up without drawing Katniss and Peeta's attention.

Feigning the exhaustion that had racked his body earlier, he subtly moves closer to the 'star-crossed lovers' without there notice. Had I not noticed the gleam in his eyes I'd think that he truly is on the verge of collapsing.

But I do, and they don't.

Without warning, Cato lunges forward, pulling Peeta into a headlock. Katniss has her bow drawn in a second, aiming to kill. But Cato doesn't seem bothered by this. If anything he laughs.

"Shoot and he goes down with me," his voice projects the same arrogance that it held in training, the one that says that he's going to win. That it's only a matter of time before you lose.

Perhaps this is one of the dirtiest and most rotten tricks he could pull, but it's working. Katniss hasn't fired her arrow and both Cato and I are still standing on the Cornucopia, out of reach of the mutts below.

Katniss still hasn't paid any attention to me yet. Either she's ignoring me out of some small debt to Rue that she still feels she owes, or she's focusing on the main threat, knowing that if she gets distracted for even a split second, Cato will throw Peeta off the edge and dodge Katniss' arrow. Then it'd be game over for Katniss.

But she's not distracted, and so we're stuck in a stalemate.

Cato's grip on Peeta tightens as he sends a victorious grin to Katniss. It's fake. If Cato really wanted it, then Peeta would be dead by now. But he's not stupid, the second Peeta's cannon goes off, Katniss would have an arrow through Cato's head.

So we stand there, waiting for one of us to make our move.

And someone does.

Peeta's hand moves and makes an 'X' on the back of Cato's hand. My eyes widen with surprise and Cato, noticing my horrified expression, finally gets what's going on. But a second too late. Katniss has already moved her bow, ready for a fatal shot.

It's a good plan, and it most certainly would've worked had a distraction not decided to do the stupid thing and intervene at that very crucial moment.

The distraction?

Me.

* * *

><p><strong>And with that, I bid you adieu.<strong>

**I'll update on Tuesday... maybe.**

**Don't forget to review.**


	13. Out of the Arena

**New chapter! Woot!**

**To those who reviewed the last chapter, I love you. Really, I do. You're all amazing.**

**This chapter shortish, again. I'm sorry. It's also kinda suckish, I had some trouble writing it, but I got it done eventually!**

***Sigh* this is almost finished, y'know. Only two more chapters after this one. Then nothing. And then the sequel. Which I almost wasn't going to do. See, I actually read the book on the weekend – which would help when writing the fic – and I had the brief panic attack where I went 'Oh My Gosh, there's no way I can do this! It's impossible! CURSE YOU SUZANNE COLLINS FOR MAKING IT SO DAMN HARD FOR ME TO COME UP WITH A STORYLINE FOR THE SEQUEL! AND FOR NOT LETTING ME OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE HUNGER GAMES!)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13 - Out of the Arena<strong>

Before she has time to even register my movement, I wrestle Katniss to the ground. Her arrow so carefully aimed goes wild as she tries to hit Cato who is already moving away from the edge of Cornucopia, easily dodging Peeta's frantic hits to get him close to the edge of the Cornucopia and down to the muttations below. _Good luck with that_.

"What are you doing?" Katniss asks as she struggles against me, as though still trying to come to terms with Cato and I being allies, "You're teaming up with _him_?"

"You just answered your own question," I say as I struggle to keep her on the ground.

"After everyone he's killed?" Katniss' statement takes me by surprise, and for only a brief second I relax my grip on Katniss, it's not much but just enough time for her to finally succeed in pushing me off her. I'm up on my feet immediately, only to have to drop down to the floor quickly as Katniss shoots one of her final arrows at me. Determined to use my near brush with death to her advantage, Katniss immediately pushes me back down to the ground. This time we're unnervingly close to the edge, not even a metre of the jaws of the mutts that are leaping up at the edge even more desperately now that we're so close to them.

"Well? Why him? What about the boy from your district? What about Rue?" Katniss words are carefully chosen, bringing up the deaths that had the most impact. _Don't, _I tell myself, _Don't listen to her. Don't let her distract you. _But it's to late for that, I'm already debating why I'm helping him. Rue, poor sweet Rue, is dead. Of course, Cato didn't actually kill her, but one of his Careers _did. _And then there's Mikail. Cato certainly killed _him. _Snapped his neck without a second thought.

Katniss has a point. _I'm helping him why?_

Because he saved my life. Stopped Thresh from killing me, even though it would've been smarter to wait just a few more seconds. So I owe him, don't I? I owe him twice over if I count that time with Kella...

_BANG_

The sound of one of the mutts slamming itself particularly hard against the Cornucopia, clawing at the roof, trying to pull itself up before falling back to the ground with the other muttations is enough to shake me out of my trance. I take advantage of the way that Katniss scoots away from the edge in shock We grapple for a few moments before I finally manage to push Katniss to the side and scoot away from her. She picks up her bow once more in a desperate attempt to shoot at Cato, despair clouding her face as she sees that she can't get a clear shot with risking hitting Peeta, who is still struggling against Cato in a feeble attempt to push him off the edge.

A small smile tugs at my face as she realises that her plan has been foiled. She won't get another chance to get rid of Cato. We might get out of this yet.

I gasp in surprise as a sharp pain spikes through my arm when Katniss takes one of her arrows and stabs it into my arm. The smile slips off my face, but only for a second before I grit my teeth against the pain in my arm and force my lips into a vicious grin.

Katniss face holds immense confusion as to why I'm happy, then it fades into panic as I kick my leg out at her bow, sending it flying off the edge of the Cornucopia.

"No!" Katniss' voice holds a mixture of emotions as she launches herself off me and over to edge of the Cornucopia, making a desperate grasp at the space previously occupied by the bow and watches helplessly as the muttations reduce her weapon to woodchips.

Katniss eyes are wide with desperation and fury as she returns her gaze to me. The smile on my face isn't fake anymore. Peeta can only distract Cato for so long before he ends up as a meal to the mutts below. And without her bow, Katniss won't be able to defend herself either. She can't win.

It's easy to tell that Katniss doesn't know what to do anymore. Her gaze flickers between Cato and I, debating who to go for. I'm an easy kill, all she'll have to do is take out the arrow in my arm and stab it into a slightly more vital place and I won't stop her. I haven't got much fight left in me, but neither has Peeta. The blonde boy from Twelve is fighting a losing battle. The only thing keeping him alive is that he's smaller than Cato, and using that to dodge some of the more vicious attacks. But it's not going to stay that way for long. Now that Cato doesn't have Katniss to worry about, he's not holding back at all, and only seconds later he has a death grip on Peeta's throat once more.

A small yelp from Peeta makes up Katniss' mind as she charges over to Cato without a second thought. I'm not sure what she's planning on doing, and I'm certain Katniss knows little more than I do. I shake my head as she signs her death wish.

It's over for Katniss and Peeta in a minute. Cato has the both trapped on the ground, hands on their throats, keeping them trapped as the mutts reach up, only centimetres from their heads and getting closer with each jump they take. I force myself to look away as one of the mutts extends its claws, scratching at Peeta's face. It's only the very top of his head, but it's enough to make him yell out in pain.

I turn back to see Cato inching them closer to the area the mutts reach every single time they jump up. Katniss' eyes meet my own, pleading with me to do something to stop Cato. I should turn around and ignore her, wait until the cannons go off announcing their deaths, but I can't bring myself to do it. She was my ally once, and when the alliance ended, she didn't kill me or condemn me to death like I'm doing to her. And why? Because of Rue. Rue bothered to help Katniss out even though it would've been safer not to. She saw something in Katniss, some goodness that made her trust her. Probably saw some good in me as well, seeing as that's how she chose her allies.

Katniss didn't kill me when she had the chance because of that, so it only makes sense that I don't let her die now.

"Wait," I say, picking myself up off the ground and carefully making my way over to Cato, who has surprisingly paused in his actions at my request.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something here, Ada," he says.

I debate my next words carefully, unsure of how to phrase them, or even of what I want. "Do we have to?"

Cato looks at me in surprise. "What?" he asks, confusion lacing his voice.

"I mean, do we really have to kill them?"

This is the first time that I've ever seen Cato speechless, probably the first time that he's ever been so. Then again, it is a pretty unusual question. It's the Hunger Games, you question a lot of things in the arena: Your health, you safety, your friends, your sanity. But never death. Killing is the one thing that you never stop to think about.

It takes Cato a full minute to regain his composure, "Yeah, Ada, we kind of do."

I shake my head. "No, we don't."

"And what else would we do?" Cato's voice is filled with sarcasm as he looks at me like I'm insane. I probably am.

"We don't give them a victor." Cato looks at me in surprise when the words come out but my mouth doesn't move, before looking down and realising that it's not me who speaks, but the girl underneath him.

Cato's expression turns hard in a second as he cocks an eyebrow at Katniss. "And how exactly would we do that?" he sneers, still not buying our idea that hasn't even fully formed yet.

"Let go of Peeta and me and I'll tell you," Katniss replies evenly, casting a wary glance at the mutts still leaping up the side of the Cornucopia and dangerously close to their heads.

Cato scoffs, "Not a chance."

"Then pull us back at least," Katniss snaps, her voice breaking slightly as Cato tightens his hold. He doesn't want to, I can see the great reluctance in his eyes as he brings Katniss and Peeta slightly closer to the middle of the Cornucopia, still very close to the edge, but further in than the mutts have ever gotten.

"Now tell me this genius plan of yours," Cato's voice still drips with sarcasm as he glares down at Katniss but at least he's listening, and even slightly curious as to how Katniss thinks that we can outsmart the Capitol.

Katniss reaches into the pocket of her jacket, shuffling slightly to take out whatever's in there while still under Cato's strong hold. "These," Katniss starts, pulling out a small handful of berries that resemble Rue's own greatly, "These are nightlock. You swallow one and you'll be dead within a minute."

"A suicide pact?" Cato laughs with disbelief.

"It's easier than killing us like this, at least it's painless," Katniss says, trying to get him to appeal to her idea. That's not an easy job. Katniss and Peeta are already on board, this way they at least die with pride, taking a stand against the Capitol. They'll be praised as heroes back in their District, proving that they're better than the Games.

It'll be the same for me. While I've no doubt that the people back home are ecstatic to have a tribute in the final four, with a real chance of winning, I got here by teaming up with a Career, the one who killed my district partner. That's not going to get me any fans. Were I watching this back home, I'd hate me. If there's one thing you never do, it's team up with the killer of your ally. And then I went and kissed him. I won't be surprised if there's an anti-Adelina club out there. But if I did this, the glee at having beaten the Capitol at their own game might be enough to stop people desecrating my tomb.

It's all about pride. For someone who isn't from a Career district, making it to the final five is a big deal, and winning is such a rarity that the final five is all people ever aim for. But for Cato it's completely different. The final five is expected of you if you come from a Career district, you're in a strong alliance, you have food and weapons, you have no excuse not to make it there. And winning is a glory, something perceived as the ultimate achievement. And when you volunteer for the Games like Cato did, you have no reason _not _to win. You don't go into the arena voluntarily without knowing you can get out.

For Cato, it's pride that's holding him back, for me, it's the reason that I walk over to Katniss and take the berries out of her hand.

Cato's eyes follow me as I split the small amount of berries into four. "Are you sure?" he asks, releasing his grip and standing back so that Peeta and Katniss can stand up and take the berries that I hand them.

"No," I answer honestly, holding out my hand, "But do you still want to try?"

The a brief moment when I think that he's going to shove the berries out of my hand and turn and push Peeta and Katniss over the edge, but after the moment of silence he reaches out and take his portion of the nightlock.

"Together?" It's Peeta who talks now, not to Cato or myself, but to Katniss who nods in reply before turning to us, signalling that she expects us to follow it as well.

"Three," Katniss counts down, a flicker of uncertainty crosses her face as she doubts the genius of her plan.

I share a look with Cato. This isn't such a good idea and neither of us are extremely willing to go through with it. Judging by the defiant look in Cato's eyes, he clearly isn't going to.

I give him a warning look. _'What are you up to?'_

"Two."

He replies with the arrogant grin that I've become used to, the one that says he's got a plan.

"One."

At Katniss' cue, we all put the nightlock in our mouths. I suppose to the audience that it's very obvious that none of us are willing to swallow, and thanks to Cato and my silent conversation, they're not expecting us to go through with it. I've no doubt that we've spoiled any chance of Gamemaker interference. I don't swallow the berry, certain that this is what Cato is doing as well, waiting for Katniss or Peeta to spit out the poisonous food first.

But there must've been some sign of absolute sincerity in all our eyes because the frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith voices through the arena barely a second after we place the fruit in our mouths, and before anyone has the chance to make any indication of spitting out the fruit... or dropping dead. "Stop! Stop! Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Cato Emery, Adelina Herene, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you – the tributes of District Two, Three and Twelve!"

Katniss and Peeta spit the nightlock out of their mouths as quickly as Cato and I, as if they too were preparing to get rid of the berries as soon as Cato and I swallowed. It seems that they had the same idea as us. The sound of trumpets going off is dimmed from the hovercraft appearing above us where four ladders drop down for us to grab hold of.

A wave of exhaustion comes over me as I'm pulled into the hovercraft where a team of medics from the Capitol immediately rush over to me, checking over my wounds, carting me off to another section of the hovercraft. Before I leave however, I catch sight of Cato's face as he's being pulled in a different direction to me, and we share an exasperated smile.

And why wouldn't we? We have a good reason to.

We've won the Hunger Games.

Against all odds, _we've survived._

* * *

><p><strong>I know, it's one sixth of the people who went into the arena. But I kind of need Katniss and Peeta for the sequel...<strong>

**F****un fact: Originally I wasn't going to have Katniss and Peeta survive, because... well... I just didn't want them to live. But then I told one of my friends this idea and she was like 'If you kill Peeta Mellark, I will kill you.'**

**And then I started freaking out, because I have weird (and very creepy) friends.**

**So you should be able to guess what I'm going to ask next. It's the same every chapter.**

**REVIEW!**

**Just remember that the more I get. The faster I update.**


	14. How To Act

**Thanks again for all your reviews! Really, you're amazing... just because I took a break from the caps lock doesn't mean that I appreciate it any less.**

**I'm sorry it took me till now to update, and I would've done so sooner, but I have the stupid school musical rehearsals that start at 9:00 and end at 4:00... DURING THE HOLIDAYS! I've had to devote my entire **_**week **_**to them! It's so annoying! Last week of holidays, and I'm spending it at **_**SCHOOL!**_

**Any way, mini rant over.**

**I had no idea what to do with this chapter at first, but then I started watching 'Holy Musical Bman' (Funniest thing ever!), and it inspired me for some unknown reason.**

**Please excuse any mistakes and lameness in this chapter. I'm tired and impatient, so the very idea of proof reading is as desirable as having a spider sit on my shoulder... Don't worry, I'll probably do it at some point... Edit, that is. I don't like spiders.**

**So here's your chapter. I hope you've realised by now that I don't own the Hunger Games. If you didn't know that until I just mentioned it... then... forget what I just said. I'm alright with you carrying out your life, thinking that I own it.**

* * *

><p>"Adelie!"<p>

"You're back!"

"Congratulations!"

"I'm so proud!"

"I can't believe it!"

"Completely unexpected!"

"I know! Honestly I wasn't expecting you to come back... No offence."

"It was _so _unexpected, wasn't it? I almost had a heart attack when they pulled out those berries!"

"Oh me too! And how about those lovebirds from Twelve!"

"Oh, they were simply the best part of the Games. I was _crying _when she found him by the river!"

"Crying? Is that all It took me _days _to calm down!"

With some difficulty I manage to tune out of the conversation between Seraphina, Zen and my Prep Team, and make my way over to Wiress, out of the team's arms which have wound their way around me as they all try to give me a bone crushing hug, all at the same time. It becomes easier to entangle myself from their embrace as it loosens considerably as their topic of interest changes from me to Katniss and Peeta.

My mentor is silent as she watches me push through the throng of extravagantly dressed Capitol members to stand under her stare. I can't help but feel like I'm being judged. Though Wiress hasn't yet said a word, and her eyes are full of sympathy and kindness, I can see her slowly going through everything that I did in the arena. Everyone who I let die without a second glance, allying with the killer of Mikail then kissing him, and even more importantly, what she thinks of how I survived. Getting out of the arena is a good thing, but not like this. Four people cam out of the arena, three more than the Capitol would've liked. It's dangerous business.

I fidget nervously under her gaze as I await her judgement. As if noticing my nervousness, Wiress quickly reaches down and wraps me in a hug. It's not like the ones that Seraphina and Zen gave me, like they had met the star of the Hunger Games, Wiress' gives me a hug that makes me feel like she actually cares. It's the type of hug that Grandma would give me. It's the same warm and comforting embrace that makes me want to start crying into her shoulder over all the things that's happened. And ignoring the other people in the room, that's what I do.

"There, there," Wiress soothes, calmingly running a hand through my hair, "It's alright. You're out of there now. You're not going back."

While her words provide a small amount of comfort to me, they don't stop the images of the arena running through my head, making me cry even harder. Wiress repeats the words over and over, moving us over to a chair where she sits me down, ignoring the growing wet patch on her shoulder from my tears. Finally after a few minutes of sobbing, Seraphina takes a pause in her conversation long enough to turn some attention to my mood, and rush over quickly to take part in the new drama.

"Oh don't cry, Ada," Seraphina calls as she hurries over to throw an arm around my shoulder, though it holds none of the comfort that Wiress' did. "We have a big day today. It's the interview! Aren't you excited? It'll be so much fun! Stop crying now, there's nothing to be sad about. I know that you're interview last time didn't go very well, but once you get over the amount of people in the crowd, it'll get easier. Besides, you won't have to do much talking, most of it is just watching a recap of the games."

Unbeknownst to Seraphina, her inconsiderate words make me even more upset. The interviews are one thing to dread, but the thought of having to watch the games again, to be forced to go back to when I was in the arena...

"I know," Wiress says as she lifts my head from her shoulder and wipes the tears from my face, "You can go through it."

"Now, I'll take a few moments to go through what to say with you, and then I'll hand you over to Zen. We'll get you dressed last of course, because, well, it's a little last minute..." Seraphina pauses awkwardly as she manages to bite back the rest of her sentence. _Because we didn't think that you'd survive. _"But it's almost done and I must say that it's fabulous! Even better than what you wore to the interviews _last _time. You'll be stunning! Isn't that right, Zen?"

My stylists head snaps up at the sound of his name, "What? Oh, yes, wonderful, Adelie, you'll look amazing."

"See? He's just got to add a few last minute touches and it'll be done!" Seraphina is beaming as she says this, obviously thinking that clothes are the one thing that could possibly hope to cheer me up.

"Actually Seraphina, I was thinking that I could talk to her about her interviews instead, if that's okay with you," Wiress says, casting me a small smile.

Seraphina heaves a sigh in response before answering in the tone of one sourly annoyed, "Well, fine then. If you _have _to."

"Thankyou, Seraphina," Wiress says in an overly exaggerated voice, "I understand how much of an inconvenience this is to you." She leads me off the chair and out of the lounge room and into mine.

"Th-thanks," I stutter out as I sit down on the bed, hiccuping slightly as I try to calm down my breaths.

"You're welcome," Wiress smiles, walking over to sit down next to me, "I figured that you could do without Seraphina's incessant chatter."

"It would be nice to have a break. At first I thought that I missed it, but then I spent five minutes in the room with her..." I say.

Wiress gives a small laugh, "I also needed to talk to you about something."

I frown slightly, knowing what's coming next, "Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have lived."

She sighs, "I'm glad that you lived, and I'm not saying that it's a bad thing. But you have to understand that the Gamemaker's aren't happy about this."

"I know–" I start, but am cut off by Wiress who speaks in a voice more serious than I've heard her talk in.

"No, you don't. You can't imagine how dangerous this has gotten. The Capitol shows their supremacy through the Hunger Games, they rub it in by allowing _one _victor. And now there are four. That's _one sixth _of the people who went in. You can't even begin to understand the repercussions of this." Wiress takes a deep breath before continuing in the same steady voice, "It's a bad situation to be in, especially for you. You were the one who stopped Cato from killing the tributes from Twelve, and then convinced the most reluctant person to go near the berries."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in. "But it wasn't just me!" I protest, defending myself to Wiress, as if it'll save me from any trouble I'm in, "Katniss was the one who came up with the idea! I just went along with it!"

"I know, and thankfully that's why most of the focus is centred on her, but you're not out of hot water yet."

I'm silent as my mind blanks on anything to say. "What do I do?" I finally ask.

"Play along," is her answer, "Act the way they want you to. Don't stray from the path they've set. Become the person they want you to be, and _maybe _we might be able to get you off their radar."

"What do they want me to be?" I ask, fearing her answer.

Wiress shrugs helplessly. "I don't know. I'm sorry. The kids from Twelve are meant to be in love, that was obvious from what they did in the arena. But I'm not sure about you..." she trails off, staring into the distance. I'm not sure if she's pondering what to do or if it's habit, but either way I leave her to it. We're silent for yet another long moment before Wiress speaks up once more, "Caesar will interview you after they show a recap of the games. Try to use that as a rough indicator. I might be able to give you more information for your interview tomorrow after that." She pauses once more before looking me in the eye and saying very slowly, as if she's afraid she'll upset me, "But just as a caution, _don't _greet the boy from District Two. Yes, I _know _he's your friend, but it's a precaution."

I nod in reply, unable to think of anything to say in response. Thankfully the awkward silence is broken by Seraphina bursting through the door, looking like she's spent the time off changing her outfit and redoing her hair and make up, all ready for any camera that might happen to fall upon her face during the interview.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says though her face shows no sign of the emotion, "But you have to get ready."

I nod and move up from the bed and over to Seraphina's outstretched hand. "Oh goody," she says, looking down at her outfit, checking for any imperfections as we walk down to the familiar room where my prep team awaits to clean me up, "You've stopped crying. You're not going to start doing that through the interview are you? Because we can't have any of that. Don't get me wrong, Adelie, I'm very sympathetic to your case, but crying is a big no-go." We're silent for a while before she looks up from inspecting her flawless nails, "So, can you do it?"

I meet her gaze and practice the best fake smile that I can put on my face. "It's _Ada._"

* * *

><p>"Oh you look stunning," my prep team coos as they come bursting into the dressing room when they see me in the dress Zen has created for me.<p>

With the same shape as my other dresses, this dress is almost exactly the same, with simple silver fabric and wires wrapped around my waist. Except that this time the fabric is encrusted with tiny jewels that make the dress shine and light up with a bright sparkle to them as I walk, the wires this time a fine silver thread. I smile as I twirl around slightly for them, making them cheer and give a small round of applause.

"Zen _has _done a magnificent job on you," Jayla says as she encircles me, checking for any last minute touches of make up she can add.

"Yes, you look like a princess," Alissa adds.

"We have definitely created a masterpiece, far better than anything _Cinna _could do," Harra adds, a triumphant grin on her face as she and the others step back, looking to Zen to let him inspect me.

"Wonderful," he says, a proud smile on his face. "What do you think Adelie, have I outdone myself?"

I don't correct him on my name this time, instead stepping forward and giving him a tight hug. "It's amazing. _Thankyou._"

"Oh, I know. I wouldn't settle for anything less. Not on an occasion like this." The moment is very sweet until he disrupts it by saying, "I mean, do you _know _how long it has been since District Three last had a victor? Too long! I never get to show off my best designs!" he pouts at the sheer unfairness of it all before flashing me one last grin and sending me out of the room.

I barely have time to grasp my surroundings before I'm guided by some Peacekeepers to a small podium which rises up to the stage, just as my name is being called over a speaker. I blink rapidly as my eyes adjust to the bright lights and loud screaming of the audience of the Capitol.

"... And Peeta Mellark!" I hear Caesar Flickerman announce before I see Peeta rising up onto the stage on a podium like mine. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the lights I can see where everyone else is: Cato to my right, basking in the cheers from the crowd. Katniss is running over to Peeta and kissing him tightly, earning the crowd's full attention. I'm tempted to run over and greet Cato, but remembering Wiress' warning, refrain myself at the last second, and give him a small nod in recognition.

Caesar is as warm and welcome as always, greeting each of us and beckoning us over to our seats, right in front of a large screen that I assume will be showing us the recap of the games. Katniss and Peeta sit together in the middle of the group of chairs, leaving Cato and I to sit on either side of them.

"Now I know that you're all dying to hear from the tributes," Caesar says, earning loud screams of approval from the audience, "But first let's take a look at the highlights of these years' games."

The audience cheers yet again before dying out suddenly when the screen flickers to life and begins to play the ever-so-important film.

At first the footage doesn't show any sign of how I'm to act, mainly it revolves around Katniss and Peeta, telling the story of their doomed love from the very beginning. The reaping, chariot rides and interviews are all about them. Cato and I don't appear until we're in the arena. Cato's first seen at the Cornucopia, looking at home as he lops off the limbs of tributes and ends their lives. It's scary. Horrifying actually. It's not like I didn't know that he did these things. I saw him snap Mikail's neck with his bare hands and kill Thresh without a second thought. But I'm still surprised.

I manage to wipe the shocked expression off my face by focusing intently on the screen when I come on, allying myself with Kella, desperately trying to get her up when I hear the Careers coming, and running when I realise it's no use.

When it gets to the part where Cato and I ally, I can see why Wiress would have reason to be worried.

Cato and I are fighting. Always fighting. While it does lessen from the hostile silence we had when we first allied, the editor of the video made sure to put in every single jab we took at each other, even the playful ones, and make it seem like an unfriendly taunt. With each delicate kiss Peeta and Katniss share, Cato and I argue over something: like who gets the last of the meat, where we should go looking for more food, where the other tributes would likely be hiding. Average things that now appear on the screen as major arguments in which we almost tried to kill each other. The one kiss we share in the arena is there too, but even that is followed by our small banters in the morning, somehow making it seem like we regretted the action.

By the time the video ends I can easily tell how I'm supposed to act:

Grateful – I got out of the arena by pure luck. True. I never killed anyone. I just allied myself with the right people.

Quiet – Don't talk. I haven't gotten out the way most victors are supposed to. Keep quiet and let everyone else take the spotlight that they deserve.

Sympathetic – Especially to Katniss and Peeta. The thought of one of them having to live without the other is unbearable.

And most clearly – I'm fiercely loyal to any allies, or former allies I had. Hence why I asked Cato to spare Katniss and Peeta. Any attachments to anyone who did them harm is unacceptable.

So of course that means that I'm supposed to hate Cato with a passion.

* * *

><p><strong>There ya have it. Not quite a happy ending...<strong>

**I really hope I don't have to ask you what to do next...**

**I mean, it's the same **_**every **_**chapter...**

**I COMMAND YOU WIOTH MY AWESOME MIND CONTROL POWERS TO REVIEW! BEND TO MY WILL, LITTLE MINIONS!**


	15. Going Home

**I'm sorry! I know it took longer than usual for me to update, I have HEAPS of homework (that I still havem't done). HEAPS. But it's done now. Finished. Over. Poof. Pow. The end.**

**It feels weird.**

**Oh well, at least I have the sequel.**

**Which shall be put up soon, don't you worry.**

**Anyway, a big, BIG, MASSIVE OVERDRAMATIC THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED/ALERTED/FAVOURITED THE STORY! IT MEANS SO MUCH! AND I'M NOT QUITE SURE WHY I'M STILL TALKING IN CAPITALS...**

**Anyway, um, sorry for any suckynes/mistakes in this chapter. I was in a hurry for this one. I'll come back and edit it later. I promise.**

**Anyway, uh, final disclaimer: I donotownTheHungerGames,,nomatterhowmuchIwantto.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15 - Going Home<strong>

I'm awoken in the morning by a loud banging on their door as Seraphina all but screams multiple threats at me, sounding like she's about to try and break down the door. I wouldn't put it past her.

Turns out, locking the door before I go to sleep in the hopes that it will stop Seraphina from waking me up at obscene hours of the morning _isn't _such a good idea.

Once upon a time, the action would've been not-so-politely ignored and I'd go back to sleep. But not now. I could probably try it, if I really wanted to, but after my time in the arena I've gotten used to waking up at the smallest of sounds and becoming alert almost instantly.

"Adelina! Get up now!" Seraphina screeches from the other side of the door, the sound of her pounding her fists against the door hasn't stopped for even a second. "Adelina!"

I sigh and push back the covers and walk over to the door, unlocking and opening it with the smallest flick of my wrist.

"Adelina! Open thi–" Seraphina stops suddenly when she realises that her fists are falling onto empty space before letting them fall limply to her sides. "It's about time! Do you know how long I've been waiting?"

_One minute? That's how long I've been awake. _I bite back my reply and stalk past her into the kitchen. "Sorry," I apologise, though my voice conveys no such emotion.

Seraphina gives an annoyed 'humph' in reply before letting out a horrified gasp. "What happened!" she all but screams, causing me to give a startled jump and spilling the milk I was pouring into my cup all over the bench.

"What?" I ask, very much annoyed at her over-the-top reaction to what will most likely be something small and insignificant.

"You look _horrible!_" Seraphina screeches, oblivious to her rudeness.

I frown at her criticism but don't protest knowing that her accusations have some truth to them. I can only imagine how I look. Hair tangled together in ferocious knots and sticking up everywhere, eyes carefully decorated with layers upon layers of dark bags. "Thanks," I say after it becomes clear that Seraphina is expecting a reply, "You look nice too."

"Stop taking everything I say as criticism, Adelie," Seraphina says as she rolls her eyes, "I'm just trying to help. You know, you _do _make it rather hard for your Prep Team. They're all going to have a heart attack when they see you!"

_Of course they will. _I shrug off her statement and bust myself with the task of coating my slice of toast with jam. _Dip knife in jam. Run over toast. Chew. Chew. Chew. _I can feel my brain turning to mush at the mundane task, but it's better than listening to Seraphina's endless and mind numbing chatter. It's not until the door opens once more and extra high pitched screech fills the air that I look up from my toast.

"Adelie! What happened to you?"

My Prep Team. Cue the horror music.

"What did you do to yourself?"

"Oh don't be stupid, Alissa. It's not her fault. She's been attacked! The poor thing!"

"Oh you're right! And look what they've done to her hair! I didn't know that it was possible for something to look so atrocious!"

"I know! We'll have to get to work right away!"

The babble of the Prep Team is like nails on a chalk board at such an early hour in the morning, and the noise worsens when Seraphina adds her input.

"Oh don't be _too _worried, Harra. It's what she looks without any makeup." Seraphina says, patting the tattooed girl on the arm soothingly.

Jayla flicks her short hair off her face. "Still, it's a good thing that we got here so early, it's going to take a _long _time to fix," she looks me up and down, her lip curling in distaste, "_That._"

Seraphina shoots her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. She wouldn't get up in the morning so I didn't have time to get her to look slightly better before you came."

Once again I find myself forced to tune out of their criticising comments and focus on the few crumbs of toast left on my plate. _One crumb. Two crumbs. Three crumbs. Four crumbs. Five crumbs._

"Well it's a good thing that we agreed to get ready so early. Looks like we're going to need all that extra time! Sorry Seraphina, I know you wanted to do something."

_Fourteen crumbs. Fifteen crumbs._

"Oh it's alright. This is more important."

_Twenty-one crumbs. Twenty-two crumbs. Twenty-three crumbs._

"Just..." Seraphina trails off. "Can you make her look nice?"

_Twenty-Seven crumbs._

"It'll be hard, but we'll do our best."

_Thirty crumbs. Thirty-one crumbs. Thirty-two crumbs. Thirty-three crumbs-_

I'm yanked up from my seat at the table and pulled out the door by the three eccentric women, all eager to push me out of the room and make me pretty.

"What time is it?" I ask as my face is coated with a thick layer of makeup, only for it to be wiped off my face the second it's finished because of one tiny flaw in it.

"Four Thirty," Harra replies, her tone strict and business like, "Now stop talking. You'll ruin your make-up."

_Four Thirty? Seraphina's obsession with waking everybody up earlier than necessary is still going strong, it seems._

After two hours of this pattern, endless squabbles over which lip gloss looks best, and mindless chatter, my Prep team take a big step back, large grins on their faces as they announce that they've finished. Personally, the only difference I can see is that the bags under my eyes are no longer visible and they've managed to get rid of the knots in my hair, nevertheless I give them my best appreciative smile that over my time in the Capitol, I've come to perfect it.

Only a few minutes later Zen barges holding an array of different dresses and the Prep Team flock out of the room, returning with more in their arms. "Here," Zen shoves a large group of the long and elegant pieces of fabric at me, "Try these on. Make sure you show someone each dress before you take it off. We can't afford to miss the masterpiece dress because _you _don't have an eye for fashion."

I roll my eyes at his snappy attitude but do as he says, showing each dress to one of the many people in the room, putting up with the rude comments about how '_It's not the dress, it's me' _and the horrified screams of '_Oh no, no, no! Get it off! You look hideous!'_

Evidently, the extra time Seraphina gave us _is _necessary in order to get through the copious amounts of clothes Zen brought in. Eventually he settles on a simple white dress with a dark blue ribbon tied around the waist.

"It's not much," he sighs, "But it'll have to do."

Pressed for time I'm pushed out the door and through to the room where Katniss, Peeta and Cato already wait. Sparing a brief glance at me as I take my seat, their attention is quickly drawn to the door where Caesar bursts through, grinning that bubbly grin of his as he sits down opposite each of us.

The interview begins shortly after, my input unnecessary for the most part. I'm not completely excluded though. However, the one question I am asked I answer with the grace and skill of a strangled duck.

"So, Adelina, what was it like working with the tribute who killed Mikail?" Caesar directs the attention to me, asking the question that I've been dreading. But I'm not surprised that it comes up. After all, it is one of the only things that I've done that could draw some small amount of interest to me. It's not a usual thing to do.

I take a deep breath, deliberating how to answer the question. "Well..." I start, risking a nervous glance at Cato who, not surprisingly, isn't paying me any attention, instead focusing on the wall, "It was rather... difficult."

Caesar nods in understanding. "I can imagine it would be," he says in the soothing voice that is reserved for the victors who look like they're about to break down. _Do I look like that? Am I turning into one of the victors who can't handle everything? _The thought of a future as one of the panicky victors or blank-eyed morphling addicts is enough to cause a small shiver run through my spine. Remembering that I'm in the interview, I quickly try to place a smile on my face but it comes out as a grimace which Caesar takes as enough of an answer.

Clearly I'm not expected to say anything more as he quickly turns to Peeta, inquiring about his choice to join the Careers, and then asking Cato why he let him join. I sit up slightly, focusing my gaze on whoever's talking, adding the occasional comment when I know something about the topic of interest, and try not to make it _too _obvious that I'm not paying any attention to the interview.

For the millionth time I find myself wondering if anyone will notice if I fall asleep during the interview.

* * *

><p>After a rather overdramatic farewell to Harra, Jayla, Alissa, Zara, Zen and Seraphina, I, along with the mentors and other Victors, am escorted to the train that will take us all back home. District Two, then Three, then Twelve.<p>

I spend the first part of the ride sitting with Wiress in a small carriage being waited on by an avox while we discuss home, the only topic of interest deemed 'safe', neither of us willing to talk of anything else. She's in the middle of telling me about the Victor's Village before she breaks off abruptly, staring out the window and turning back to me, a secretive smile on her face.

"We'll be back soon. Back home. In about ten minutes we'll be at District Two, and the ride from there to home isn't a long one," she explains, finishing off her drink and placing it back on the table. "I'm going to say goodbye to some friends. You don't mind me leaving, do you?"

I shake my head, standing up and leaving the small carriage as Wiress does, exiting from opposite doors. There's a carriage close where the mentors normally sit, complaining about how the games went, holding grudges against the mentors of the tributes who killed their own.

I'm not going there.

I'm sure after a few years I'll go up and join them, but not for a long time. I don't think that I can face any of them. And so I head up the other end of the train, as far away from everyone else as possible.

That said, I'm not the only one who has that idea.

The last carriage on the train is a small one, filled with only a few chairs next to a large window, showing the beautiful scenes of the countryside that the train leaves behind as it steams forward. Cato stands leaning against the railing of the window, gazing out at the countryside flashing past, completely ignoring my presence. Silently I move up next to him, pondering what to do and how to act.

"Why did you do it?" I finally ask the question that's constantly been on my mind since the arena.

"Do what?" Cato says through gritted teeth, already annoyed at something.

Going over it now, there are many things that he's done that I want to inquire his reasons for. Not revealing my pathetic excuse for a hiding place to the other Careers, stopping Thresh from killing me, and other odd things... like kissing me! He needs an excuse for that! The sheer nerve! Then again

After a few minutes I make my decision about what I'm asking. "Why did you save me?"

"Drop it, Ada." Cato says in the tone that's meant to indicate the end of any and all conversation.

"No," I argue back fiercely, taking a determined step forward instead of shrinking back like I so desperately want, "No. Tell me. I'm sick of you just walking away whenever this topic's raised. _I. Need. To. Know."_

Then without warning he spins around from the railing and presses my body against his, his lips moving against mine in an instant. Once again the action renders my ability to think and be furious like I'm supposed to be useless. But this time instead of giving me the 'Oh shit' look that so often crosses Cato's face after such interactions, usually followed by weeks of silent treatment, when the kiss ends it is followed by another, and another, and another, until I'm backed up against the wall of the train, trying to ignore the little buzzer at the back of my mind indicating that I need to breathe.

But the moment is over far too soon. Cato takes a large step back from me, runs a hand through his hair, sighing like he's just done something unbearably stupid, and turns away from me, facing the window once more. I'm not sure about whether or not I'm supposed slink quietly away without a second word. It's not what I want to do. Really, I want to force him to turn around and scream at him until he tells me what's going on his head, and then kiss him just for good measure.

But something tells me that wouldn't be the best idea.

I'm about to walk out of the carriage, silently in the hopes that he won't turn around or look back and make the situation more awkward. I'm at the door when something stops me.

"That's why." The words are uttered so quietly that I'm forced to question whether or not my mind is just playing tricks on me. It's entirely plausible. It's not something that I'd ever expect to hear him say. Especially after kissing me. Normally he's just allowed me to believe that he's the more 'kissing someone because it's fun to fuck up their mind' kind of guy.

The silence that follows though is enough to make me discard the statement as a figment of my imagination, but not leave the carriage. Instead I walk towards Cato, determined to ask oe more question. Even if it is the one that I don't want answered.

"So what happens now?" I ask, stepping forward to look out the window with him at the countryside flashing past.

"What happens now?" Cato repeats with a bitter edge to his voice, "What happens now is that I go home, and try to explain why I'm not the only one on the damn train."

"I meant about us," I say softly, not sure if I want to hear the answer.

"Stop being an idiot, Ada," Cato pauses and takes a deep breath, his tone slightly softer, "You saw the recap of the Games. We hate each other. There is no us."

* * *

><p>A wave of sound crashes down on us as the train pulls into the station at District Two where Cato jumps off with little more than a stiff nod in goodbye to Katniss and Peeta, before he turns to the crowd waiting for him, wearing a cocky smile as he welcomes the congratulatory cheers from his District. He doesn't spare a second glance at the train as is speeds off behind him; too busy basking in the glory. I try not to look at the window as District Two fades into the distance. The temptation is overwhelming, but I manage.<p>

Within a few minutes, all of District Two is nothing more than a distant blur in the corner of my eye, the train now due to reach it's next destination in ten or so minutes.

District Three.

_Home._

The thought of returning back brings a soft smile to my face.

_Harley._

_Cora._

_Grandma._

I keep on repeating flashes of their faces in my mind, over and over again, like I'm afraid I'm going to forget. Which I am.

Cora had blue eyes, right? Yes, she did. They were the same colour as Kella's eyes.

Did she have black hair? Or was that the girl from District Two? Or did neither of them possess such a feature, and am I getting them mixed up with other tributes?

It's hard to tell the difference. Not that I group my friends with some of the kids that were in the arena, but it's hard to tell the difference.

_Harley – Dark brown hair (The same colour as the girl from Four) – Brown eyes (Mikail's)._

_Cora – Black hair (Clove?) – Blue eyes (Just like Kella's)._

I shake my head and open my eyes, trying to rid myself to the images. I don't like them. It doesn't help pairing them with people from the arena. I don't like the idea of fixing their faces on the dead and mangled bodies of the others.

But abandoning the only cheerful thought I have of home leaves me with little left for my mind to dwell on other than the troubling things. Everything I'd rather forget: The Capitol that follows me, even as we speed away from it. The memories from the arena, that are forever burned into my mind. The tributes who's faces I saw up in the sky. The trainers who casually betted about the likeliness of which tributes were coming out. The audience that hangs on our every move. The mute avoxes that served me in the Capitol. The Peacekeepers that are everywhere I go. President Snow, whose snake like gaze seems to follow me wherever I go, lips twisted into a secretive smile. And most of all, that arrogant, annoying, conceited jerk from District Two...

_Okay, calm down, _I tell myself as I desperately try to rationalise my thoughts. _I have no reason to be mad at Cato..._

_Actually, that's a lie. I have a very good reason to be angry with him._

_... Jerk._

"We're here." The voice of one of the many peacekeepers breaks me out of my thoughts and I hurriedly look out the window to verify his statement.

I can't stop the smile that grows on my face as the meadows and forests slowly turn to buildings clumped together, a large crowd becoming visible as the train slows to a stop. I leap up off my seat before the peacekeeper even has to tell me to, racing past Katniss and Peeta to the door with little more than a barely audible "Goodbye."

As there normally is when the victor of the games returns to their district, the train station is packed with people from around the District, getting a glimpse of the first victor from home in a decade or so. There are a few photographers from the Capitol, and I can spot the occasional video cameras, filming the arrival of the train. When the doors open, my eyes scan the crowd, raking through the sea of people until they land on the people I'm looking for.

Cora.

Harley.

Grandma.

Once the peacekeepers give me a small signal telling me that I'm allowed to get off, I'm running, pushing my way through the crowds until I get to the trio that I want.

"Ada!" Cora is the first to greet me as she runs at me, wrapping me in the tightest embrace she can.

"Hey!" Harley protests as she tries in vain to push Cora away from me, "Quit hogging her!" I let out a small laugh that ends in a choke when Harley decides to hug me from the other side, sandwhiching me between the two.

"I missed you both too," I say, the smile permanently glued to my face, "But I can't breathe."

"Oh," they both say at once, immediately taking a big step away from me.

I laugh once more. "I missed you _so _much," I repeat, hugging them both once more before I let go of them before they have the chance to half suffocate me like earlier. There are a few tears dripping down from the corners of my friends eyes for a fraction of a second, only to be wiped away before the can drip down past their wide grins, still intact on their faces.

There's really nothing that can compare to the feeling of elevation that I get at seeing my friends, something that I never thought I'd get to do again, but just over their shoulder I can see the one person who I'd leave them for.

"Grandma!" I should be more careful. It's probably not very good to run at old ladies and tackle them in a hug, but I don't think Grandma cared, judging solely on the large grin on her face as she leans down and whispers in my ear:

"What did I tell you Adelina? You should listen to me more often, silly girl. I told you you'd come back."

Forcing all thoughts of the Capitol, and Cato from my mind, I focus on the only thing that matters.

_I'm home._

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the cheesysucky ending. I'm not good at them.**

**THERE IS A POLL ON MY PROFILE! It's about Peeta. See, most of you weren't happy with the whole 'four victors' thing, and neither was my friend (You know who you are! *evil glare*). So she bullied me into putting up this poll as a sorry thing and a chance to amend my mistake. Go check it out!**

_**Now.**_

**And you still have to review, by the way. The more reviews I get, the faster I post the sequel!**

**Oh by the way, the sequel will be called... Drum roll, please *clears throat*:**

_**General Knowledge**_

**Okay, yeah, admittedly terrible title. But I never claimed to be good at picking them. And I wanted to no make the name 'Common Sense' sound so random. So I'm just keeping with the theme.**

**Anyway... uh... BYE!**


	16. Pointless-But-Actually-Importa nt AN

**I know it's been a while since I've even touched this account and when I remembered it existed I kind of re-read of this and OH MY GOD HOW DID YOU GUYS EVEN READ THIS? It's actually just so very EUGH!**

** Hence my sudden edit-before-I-die-of-embarrassment mood.**

**Oh, right! That's what this Pointless-But-Actually-Kind-Of-Important Authors Note is about. I'm going back and editing this fic and the sequel in the hopes that by the end of it it will be slightly-less crappy (still is even with the editing, I'm pretty sure my writing skills haven't improved in the slightest, but hey, I think I got rid of maybe two spelling mistakes in this first chapter (and maybe added five more)).**

**So, yeah, hopefully with all this editing I'm doing I'll be able to make certain characters (*cough:Cato:cough*) slightly less OOC. Actually, come to think of, this is more of a re-write than anything. I'm hoping to add in extra-ish scenes and by the end I'll hopefully be able to bring myself to finish writing that stupid sequel.**

**Anyway, I'm just putting this here in case the sudden change in writing from the first chapter (because I have already edited/rewritten that chapter) seems a bit odd.**

**So, yeah, thanks if you're reading this?**

**(Ps. If anyone from when I first wrote this is reading this: Sorry for being such a bitch about reviews. I actually did read every single one of them and I love every single one of you (yes, that IS present tense you detect). So, yeah, I was annoying an thirteen (as opposed to being annoying and fourteen?) oh, right, yeah so thanks for reading Common Sense when you did and sorry again)**

**(Pps. This is the exact same Authors note I put in General Knowledge. Sorry if anyone read it twice)**


End file.
